


Feuer und Wasser

by SilverShadow1711



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Injury, Breeding, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Knotting, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Necrophilia, Older Man/Younger Woman, One-Sided Attraction, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 04:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShadow1711/pseuds/SilverShadow1711
Summary: Fire and water can never come together.Alas, neither can fantasy and reality, but some of Byleth's collegues find that line becoming blurred.





	1. Sin

"Feuer und Wasser"

A/N- After reading a _delightful _3H fic where all the students get their jollies off fantasizing about Byleth, I am obligated by law to write the same, but with the faculty/knights. This has _nothing_ to do with me being a dirty old woman who wants to bone the hot, literal daddies in the game. Nothing at all... Takes place after the timeskip… and in the Azure Moon route, apparently.

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_ "Feuer und Wasser kommt nicht zusammen…" _

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"Sin"

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Gilbert sighed as he locked the door to his quarters. Even with the moon nearly full and bathing his spartan possessions in silvery light, it seemed dark. It must have just been his admittedly dark thoughts, but the cathedral had been so bright from that same moon… but also… 

He could still see the professor as clear as though she were still standing before him. Maybe it was the moon reflecting on her pale hair that made her look so bright, cast in an otherworldly glow as she chided him. Praying to the goddess would not absolve him, said one blessed by the almighty Sothis Herself. Made an earthly vessel of the goddess' power and will, did that mean that, in some small way, he was praying to her? Such an idea was foolish, if not blasphemous, and yet…

_ "I heard your voice." Despite the echo of the immense chamber, he hadn't heard her approach until she stood directly behind him. How long had she been listening to him pray-- no,  _ ** _beg_ ** _ before making her presence known? He tried to change the subject, but she paid his words little mind. "What were you doing?" She asked, the look in her eyes telling him she already knew the answer but wanted to hear it directly from him.  _ ** _Confess_ ** _ , those eyes commanded… _

He had confessed, the painful truth of all his sins. Everything now, all the death and destruction, the archbishop's disappearance, Dimitri's madness, it was because of his failings as a knight. The professor had touched his arm, her fingers barely brushing against his sleeve and yet, searing him all the same. Her hands were so small, so delicate, like the rest of her, but held such strength. Saints Seiros and Cethleann were said to be impossibly beautiful as well. Perhaps that was what made the bitter pill she forced upon him easier to swallow, having that harsh critique fall from those lush, pink lips. 

He'd felt a stirring back in the cathedral and, horrified by his own lecherous thoughts, cut their conversation- his confession- short. He'd walked the professor back to her chambers; they were on the way to his own, and it would have been unchivalrous  _ not _ to, but goddess help him if it hadn't been awkward. Well, for him at any rate. She'd seemed as unbothered as she had been in the cathedral while Gilbert found himself newly, and painfully, aware of the woman walking so close to him that their arms brushed together with every other step. The curve of her thighs, the swell of her breasts… 

He groaned, feeling his trousers grow uncomfortably tight. The goddess had seen fit to send them another herald, to guide the people of Fódlan, and he was  _ lusting _ over her! What a shameful, sinful man he was, he lamented even as he reached down to palm his burgeoning erection…

_ "My sins are countless. I will bear the weight of my guilt for as long as I live…" The mere mention that guilt felt like it was dragging him down, into the eternal flames where sinners like him belonged. Byleth's hand felt cool in comparison to the fire that plagued his thoughts, extinguishing it and drawing his attention to her alone.  _

_ "And do you make yourself suffer to ease that weight, or because you feel it should be heavier still? Because the way you act, Gilbert, makes me think you  _ ** _want_ ** _ to be crushed."  _

_ "I… no." Of course he did not  _ ** _want_ ** _ this suffering, but neither did heretics and criminals  _ ** _want_ ** _ to be executed for their crimes. It was what they deserved, and it was what he deserved.  _

_ "You're going about this the wrong way." Despite her youth, there was something bordering on ancient in her eyes. A wisdom, a weariness. Those eyes that glowed like green fire, unnatural and so, so beautiful. The goddess must have been staring at him through those eyes. It made him feel small and worthless, and yet, there was a bit of a thrill in the thought as well. He swallowed, hoping he didn't look as flushed as he felt.  _

_ "Even if I am granted the forgiveness of those who still live, praying is all I can do to atone to those who are with us no more…"  _

_ "Praying won't help you atone." He was taken aback by how short her tone was. In the time he'd known Byleth, he'd never seen her display more than a hint of melancholy or annoyance. Yet now, her eyes were narrowed as she stared at him, those soft lips hardened into a stern frown. She raised herself up to her full height, which was still considerably shorter than him, but Gilbert found himself shrinking back nonetheless. His heart pounded almost painfully, but there was no fear within him. If he had to put a name to it, it was… anticipation.  _

_ "The dead are gone. You cannot help them, and they can neither forgive you, nor hold grudges. You are not a fool, nor a child- you know that."  _

_ Yes, his king had told him something similar all those decades ago, after his first battle. But… it was not that easy. Nothing in life could ever be so easy. He looked away, the halo of her hair hurting his eyes.  _

_ "Even if the living forgave me… even if the dead no longer haunted me, the goddess--" He smelled her before anything else, the cloying scent of lilies wafting from her hair as she stepped closer, close enough for him to feel the moist heat of her breath on his throat.  _

_ "The goddess stands before you. She gave me her powers, her heart and soul. I am her and she is me." Byleth reached up, cupping his cheeks with hands that were firm but gentle, and calloused from years of swordplay. She forced him to look at her, those glowing eyes still hard. Every fiber of his being told him to kiss her, but she held him in place. "What do you want from me?" A thousand thoughts flew through his mind all at once. 'Your lips. Your breasts. Your love. Everything...' But only one word could escape his throat.  _

_ "Forgiveness." Something flickered behind her eyes.  _

_ "And do you deserve forgiveness?" He shook his head as best he could while she still held him.  _

_ "That is why I try to atone, through prayer--" _

_ "Prayer is best done on ones' knees. Show me. Show me how badly you want to be forgiven." Had anyone else dared to mock him in such a way, Gilbert would have responded with a hand around their throat. But the sight of this beautiful woman, bathed in moonlight in the ruined remains of the cathedral filled him with a feeling he'd never felt before.  _

_ He fell to his knees, barely noticing how the cold and damp of the stone soaked into his trousers, or even how uncomfortably tight they'd grown. He had cast aside his noble title, his lands and holdings, even his name before joining the Knights of Seiros, but he would prove to the goddess that he could humble himself further. Prostrating himself, the knight pressed his lips to the top of Byleth's boot, the old but well cared-for leather supple against his lips. He could only imagine how the skin beneath would feel.  _

_ That, perhaps, was what gave him the courage to trail his kisses upward, over her shin and the poleyn she always wore, until the only thing separating his lips from her flesh was a thin layer of lace. He was at her thigh; if he raised himself up, he would be eye level with her center.  _

_ He rarely indulged in pleasures of the flesh with his wife, outside of what was necessary to provide a potential heir for his house, but he had pleasured her enough in those early days of their marriage to believe he could pleasure Byleth, too. A proper tithe, better than simply begging for forgiveness. His hands had just reached the waist of her pants when something tugged on his hair, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to sting as he was pulled away from his goal. Byleth held his braid like a leash, staring down at him with the same stern expression as before.  _

_ "What are doing?"  _

_ "I--" His face burned with shame, begging him to look away, but the set of her lips demanded he meet her gaze. "I wanted to pleasure you."  _

_ "Why?" So he could revel in the pleasure of her own. So she would moan and look upon him warmly as he spread her folds and ran his tongue over her hard clit, relishing her scent and taste and the sound of her voice as she murmured his name…  _

_ "To earn your favor. Your forgiveness. Is this not how you want me to pray?" Her jaw tightened, as well as her grip on his hair.  _

_ "I see. In that case, you may not." She gave his braid another tug, pulling him further from her before dropping it. "Take off your clothes."  _

_ "Wh-what?" He did not know what to call her anymore. Saint? Goddess? Byleth? No, no, and definitely not- they all sounded too irreverent even in his mind. He referred back to what was familiar. "Professor, what do you--?"  _

_ "Every night, you come here and lay your soul bare to the goddess." She circled him lazily, his heart pounding in time to the rhythm set by her boots. "Surely that is the most intimate part of you, so why balk to bare the rest? If you desire forgiveness so desperately, then prove it."  _

_ He swallowed hard, hands slowly raising to unlace the collar of his shirt. Despite the late hour, Gilbert wished we were still wearing his armor. Even a few layers of plate and mail would be that much to stand between him and her judging gaze. He breathed hard, as if he were marching to battle, but the nerves that left his hands shaking did nothing to soften his member. No, much to his dismay and chagrin, it strained against his trousers, a visibly darker spot where the head pressed against the fabric.  _

_ If Byleth was shocked or disgusted, her expression betrayed nothing. She simply inclined her head, indicating that she wished him to continue. He had always been a pious man, who followed the goddess' commandments to the best of his ability, and now would be no different. Shameful as it was, he complied, striping his clothes off until he knelt bare on the cathedral floor, his cock painfully swollen and leaking precum onto the stone. Byleth began circling him again, stopping at his back.  _

_ Being as vulnerable as this was torture. The eternal flames of Ailell had always been a myth, made up to scare children into behaving-  _ ** _this_ ** _ was the true torment reserved for sinners, their own personal nightmare-- He sucked in a sharp breath as her hands alighted upon his chest, those small, delicate fingers ghosting over his scars.  _

_ "You've suffered a great deal. You've hurt, and bled, and undoubtedly cried many tears." Gilbert bit his lip until he tasted iron, anything to keep from moaning. She was reminding him of his weakness, his failure, even as she rolled his nipples between her fingers.  _

_ "Not enough," he managed to pant. "Not nearly enough to make up for all the suffering I've caused…"  _

_ "Yes, I do recall you telling me that you don't deserve pleasure even as small as smiling…" She leaned against him as her hands ran down the trail of ginger hair that spanned from chest to groin, her breasts warm and soft against his back. Try as he might, he could not stifle the whimper that escaped him as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. "Do you deserve  _ ** _this_ ** _ pleasure, then?" Her touch was masterful as she stroked him, unbearably fast then torturously slow, pressing her thumb against his slit and spreading the moisture that beaded there. Gilbert shut his eyes, wishing he could crawl under a rock and die as his hips thrust of their own accord.  _

_ "No. No, I don't! I deserve nothing!" He was wretched and weak, and this was the goddess reminding him of that, reminding him that nothing he ever did or would ever do would make up for his sins, that he deserved torment and nothing but…! Byleth's hand left him, the cathedral air suddenly freezing, and a choked sob tore itself from his throat.  _

_ "You are such a strange man." Her voice came from in front of him. He'd honestly assumed she left, disgusted by his pitiful display. Daring to open his eyes, Gilbert was certain his heart stopped as the young professor undid the clasp that held her robes together and shrugged them off. The airy white cloth floated to the ground, leaving her breasts bare positioned perfect for him to drink in as she bent to undo her pants. "You are a sad, strange man, and I don't think I'll be able to forgive the people who made you this way…"  _

_ She stepped towards him, fully nude, her skin aglow in the moonlight. He was torn between reaching out to her and scrambling to get away, but something froze him in place so he could only stare as she stood over him, a foot on either side of his hips. The pale green curls between her legs glistened, but before he could fully comprehend just how close she was, Byleth laid her hands on his shoulders, pushing, easing him back.  _

_ He was clay to be molded in her hands, bending and folding to her will until he lay on his back, the damp old stone raising gooseflesh over his arms and neck even as her skin burned his thighs where she straddled them. Moving a hand between them, her eyes never left his as she took hold of his manhood, positioning him so she could lower herself onto him in one smooth motion. Her head fell back, but her moan was swallowed by his own.  _

_ "Pr-professor, no!"  _

_ "Isn't this what you want?" She asked softly, rolling her hips slowly. Yes, of  _ ** _course_ ** _ he wanted this, more than anything, but…  _

_ "I don't deserve it…"  _

_ "According to whom?" She demanded, suddenly hard again. "Who is demanding that you punish yourself? Not the dead. Not your family. Sothis Herself spoke to me, and I assure you, she did not mention you." She leaned down, nearly covering his body with her own, her hair falling around them like a curtain. She was so soft and warm, even her voice and hands as she reached up to cup his cheeks, brushing away the dampness there. "You lie to yourself, and have been for so long. About what you want, and why you pray… even your name, dear Gustave."  _

_ "No…" He whispered, his throat too tight to speak any louder. "All I want, all I pray for, is atonement. Forgiveness."  _

_ "How can anyone forgive you if you can't forgive yourself?"  _

_ "But-- the goddess--" She silenced him with her lips, kissing him with such tenderness and love that he could not stop his tears falling faster. She pulled back just enough to speak, her breath warming him.  _

_ "I am the mother of all life, the arbiter of every soul. I blessed the people of Fódlan so that they might cherish that life, not willfully waste it away in self-imposed suffering. You deserve to be happy, Gustave. I want you to be happy." She looked at him expectantly, but he could manage no words. There was no annoyance, no disappointment in her eyes this time. Though she rolled them slightly, she did so with a smile, a beautiful smile that melted some of the ice blocking this throat. "What do you want?"  _

_ "You." His hands came up to grip her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him and whispering soft, loving words in his ear as he thrust into her. For the first time in nearly a decade, the dead released their grip on his heart, allowing him to breathe freely. "Oh, goddess… my goddess…"  _

_ He wanted to thank her properly for lifting this weight from his chest, but the words to do so slipped between his fingers. So instead, he reached between and found the little bud just above where his cock slid in and out of her, stroking it just as she had stroked him earlier. Byleth moaned into his shoulder, rocking her hips against his hand. He could feel it harden against the pad of his finger as a gush of slick drenched his cock, making it easier to move against her.  _

_ "Do you not mind my pleasuring you now?" There was a hint of teasing in his voice, but his question was an earnest one.  _

_ "Th-that depends…" Her voice, thick with desire, made him twitch within her. "Why are you doing it?"  _

_ "Because I want to." He told her honestly, circling her clit, brushing against it but not applying any direct pressure. "I want to make you feel good. I want to hear you moan and see you fall apart because of me. I have wanted that for so many years…"  _

_ "But  _ ** _why_ ** _ ?" Despite his cheeks burning, he did not avert his gaze, but looked at her directly, praying not for forgiveness, but that she could see the depth of his feelings.  _

_ "Because it makes me happy. Because  _ ** _you_ ** _ make me happy. Because I love you… Byleth." She gasped softly, such joy shining in her eyes as she bent to kiss him again. This time, he reciprocated her affections, opening his mouth to her, drinking her in as they made love. Planting his feet on the floor, he thrust harder and with greater urgency, feeling his cock swell against her soft walls. Even as he thought of pulling out and finishing himself with his hand, Byleth whispered softly to him.  _

_ "It's alright. Don't hold back. You don't have to deny yourself anymore pleasures…" As though he'd unknowingly been waiting for her permission, Gustave buried himself inside her, a declaration of his love for her on his lips as he spilled his seed deep into her womb. _

It was impossible to tell what had snapped him back to reality, the force of his orgasm or the shock of hearing Byleths' name in his voice. Regardless, Gilbert's head swam as he came to his senses. He half expected to look up and see the rubble that had crushed the cathedral's pulpit, but all he saw were the familiar walls of his room. Of course it had all been a fantasy, a _disgusting_ fantasy. 

He wiped his hand on his tunic, tearing it off and tossing it to the floor to cover the conspicuous white splatters that stood stark against the dark wooden planks. Tucking his now soft member back into his pants, the knight walked to his bed, kneeling beside it. He clasped his hands together, feeling his stomach churn. Byleth-- no, this was no dream. He had not earned the right to even think of her by name. 

The professor had been right, as she so often was. Praying would not help him atone. There simply  _ was _ no atonement for such a shameful, sinful man as himself. If the mere  _ idea _ of forgiveness drove him into such a lustful frenzy, then clearly he did not deserve it. He thanked the goddess for showing him that in such a way that no one was hurt by his lecherous actions… no one but him. He added the professor's name to the list of those he prayed for that night, asking that the goddess protect her, from him especially. She deserved better than the love of one so wretched as him…

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A/N- Obviously, poor Gilbert can't catch a break, even in his fantasies. He is the anthropomorphic personification of social anxiety, don't @ me. Seriously, he spends all his time obsessing over a single incident that happened almost a decade ago, thinks everyone hates and blames him (and if they make it clear that they don't, believes they  _ should _ ), and lived out all our fantasies by dropping his old life and skipping town to start fresh because he was embarrassed. The man is one "I am not a clown; I am the entire circus" away from being a twitter post. The rest of the stories probably won't be this… story intensive. I just wanted to write sum fuck, but Gilbert being miserable is, like, 10 of my kinks.


	2. Sudden

_ "Kann man nicht binden sind nicht verwandt..." _

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"Sudden"

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"See, Byleth? I told you there was a cave here! The goddess is smiling on us yet!" 

"Please.  _ Please. _ Stop talking." Alois felt his grin slip a bit as the young professor passed through the curtain of vines he had hacked away. He'd been sure finding a shelter would lift her spirits a bit. Missions were no fun when he was the only one enjoying himself! 

Well, even if she was going to be a sourpuss about it, he was still convinced the goddess was working to make this a good day. He wasn't even supposed to go scouting today! The schedule listed Gilbert as going with Catherine, but despite her protests that she was fine, poor Cat's leg was still healing from an Imperial dog's lance. Professor Ondine offered to take her place, and just this morning before it was time for them to head out, Alois woke to Gilbert practically knocking his door down. 

He'd begged him to take his place, swearing on his honor, on the goddess, on his family that he would pay him back. Alois tried telling him no payment was necessary, but the older knight barely seemed to hear him, looking like to swoon from relief. Gilbert had always been something of an odd duck, but recently, he'd been acting distant and shifty, even for him! Alois decided to try and get to the bottom of that strange behavior…  _ after _ his mission! Shamir would've chewed him out for the spring in his step, but he couldn't help it! Everything had been so hectic since the Knights returned to Garreg Mach, with half their forces following Byleth and Prince Dimitri all across Fódlan to rally the people and gain additional manpower, and half constantly having to repel Imperial attacks. 

There was so little time to even talk to his self-appointed sister, so of  _ course _ he would relish the opportunity to spend the day with her, even if it was while hunting down a bandit's nest. The day had started out sunny, and despite there being remnants of a camp, there was no trace of bandits anywhere near the surrounding hamlets. Alois had filled their travel with stories of the battles he'd fought with Jeralt and some of his more amusing drunken encounters, even throwing out his best jokes. And while she would answer any questions and occasionally throw out an anecdote unprompted, for the most part, Byleth walked beside him in stony-faced silence. 

Once, when he had tried to explain one of his jokes, fearing she didn't quite grasp the genius of his wordplay, she decked him in the face. It hadn't been a hard blow, more startling than painful, but it had landed him on his ass nonetheless. She apologized quickly, her face flushed with embarrassment, but Alois laughed it off, picking himself up. 

_ "Long stretches of silence broken by a punch to the face. You really  _ ** _ARE_ ** _ Jeralt's kid!" _

Indeed, Jeralt never pulled  _ his _ punches- he was still missing a tooth from when he made the mistake of trying to sneak the knight's stein away before he blacked out. No, similar as they were, Byleth wasn't Jeralt. The captains' hands could never be so small and delicate-looking, for one. Alois found himself thinking a  _ bit _ too intensely on how her hands would feel on his cheek if they  _ weren't _ balled into fists. In fact, he was almost grateful when the dark clouds that had been forming in the distance rolled over them, the heavens parting and baptising the land anew. ... _ almost _ . 

The warmth of the afternoon was quickly chased away, the road flooding, lightning striking close enough to make his heart jolt every time. Fortunately, he'd stumbled upon the cavern with Shamir, back when the Dark Beasts were first spotted near the monastery. Seteth had been worried there might be more nests nearby. This cave might have once been the home of a bear, but for the last five years, it had housed only travelers looking for shelter, just as they were now. Byleth leaned against the stone wall, breathing hard. Dark as it was, Alois couldn't see her, but he'd seen her enough in the training yard to know how her bosom heaved when she was winded. 

"This is the worst." She panted. "I should've just stayed in bed. Sent Felix out…" 

"Oh, come now, professor. Don't let a little rain put a  _ damper _ on your mood! Ha ha!" 

"...do you want to get punched in the face again? Because I'm going to punch you in the face again." 

"Fine, I'll stop. I just wanted to cheer you up; you've been  _ stormy _ all day!" He heard her armor scrape against the stone and cowered, suddenly stricken by the memory of Jeralt stomping over to him in a drunken rage. "I'm sorry, I'll stop this time, for real!!" The blow he half remembered didn't come. There was no yelling, no sound of flesh striking flesh, only a soft crackling. 

Telling himself that he was being silly, the knight opened his eyes, pleasantly surprised to find the cave bathed in a warm orange glow. Byleth held a ball of fire in her hand, the flames dancing around her fingers and painting the rain that ran down her neck gold. He felt his heart rapp out an almost painful tempo against his chest. No, no! He wasn't entranced by her blouse clinging tightly to her breasts- it was the magic he was interested in! Only that and _nothing_ _else_. 

"That doesn't hurt?" He hoped he'd only imagined his voice cracking like he was thirteen again… She fixed him with a hard look as she set the flame onto the ground. 

"If it hurt, I wouldn't do it. It isn't much, but it'll keep us warm until our clothes dry." Alois couldn't help but frown. 

"No offense, Byleth, but that piddly little fire isn't going to dry much…" 

"Well, as long as we're wearing everything, no." She had a point, as he was about to acquiesce until he realized that she hadn't just shrugged off her overcoat but was currently pulling her blouse over her head. 

"Goddess be good! What do you think you're doing?!" 

"Taking my clothes off so they can dry faster, as you should be doing." He sputtered, only remembering that he could turn away after she'd bared her breasts to him. Why wasn't she wearing undergarments? Didn't women wear undergarments anymore?! 

"I can't just take my clothes off in front of you! You're a woman! ...you're a woman; you shouldn't be taking your clothes off in front of  _ me _ either!" 

"...so you'd rather we both die of a chill?" He tugged at his hair in dismay. Of course that wasn't what he was saying! And, loathe as he was to admit it, he  _ was _ rather cold… "Don't you always say I remind you of Jeralt?" Byleth's voice came from further away, and when he dared to peek, he saw that she was sitting with her back to him, looking over her shoulder, the fire's light creating esoteric patterns across her back. If nothing else, at least she was wearing underpants, he noticed with a tinge of what was definitely  _ not _ disappointment. "Would you be so modest with him?" 

"Well, no, but… that's different. Jeralt and I were both men." 

"And? Men lust after other men." 

"Not me!" He protested, perhaps a bit too defensively. "I'm happily married, as you'll do well to remember! To a  _ woman!" _ Even as the words left his lips, a heavy guilt settled in his gut. Byleth nodded, looking away once more. 

"Exactly. And even if you weren't, you're a chivalrous knight. Both of us know nothing is going to happen just because we aren't wearing clothes." How could he argue with her without sounding like a deviant? He could already feel himself start to shiver, so it seemed his body had made his decision for him. 

"Alright. But you keep your eyes to yourself, young lady! The last thing we need is for you to go mad with desire from gazing upon my sculpted physique!" 

"Oh no," She deadanned. "However will I resist the temptation?" Alois laughed in spite of the strange ache in his heart that  _ wasn't _ disappointment, no sir. He didn't feel  _ at all _ awkward and self conscious as he removed his armor and the padding beneath, stretching them out on the cave's floor. Without that wet barrier between his skin and the fire, it warmed him quickly. 

Anywhere else, with any _ one _ else, he would have filled the silence with jokes, but he found himself unable to think of anything but the woman just a few feet away from him. He could hear her breathing over the fire's crackle, her breaths slowly growing slower and more even. Swallowing, Alois had to work his mouth for a while before any words came out. 

"B-Byleth…?" 

"I…" She yawned heavily, shifting. A quick glance revealed that she had laid down, paying no mind to the dust and grit clinging to her skin as she rolled over to face the fire. "I need… to take a nap… so sleepy…" It really wasn't anything to be worried about. Ever since the goddess had blessed her, the young woman had been quick to tire. Seteth explained that it was a result of her body growing accustomed to her new divine powers, and that they all had a responsibility to keep an eye out for her and make sure she didn't doze off somewhere dangerous. A cold, dirty cave wasn't the  _ best _ place to sleep, but it wasn't like he could carry her to her bed in this weather. 

He moved his cloak closer to the fire, hoping it would dry quicker so he could at least cover her. Alois felt a small smile tug at his lips. Yep, the captain also had the gift of being able to fall asleep anywhere, at any time, though in  _ his _ case, it was more from passing out than being tired.  _ Men can lust after men… _ She hadn't been wrong. How many nights had he found himself sitting beside Jeralt's bed after helping drag him to it, watching the older man's face as he dozed? No other men had ever captured his attention, only the captain. There was something about him… 

After he'd vanished without a trace and Alois met his wife, he was certain that strange fluttering in his stomach had just been a case of hero worship gone out of hand, and yet, as he mentally traced the curve of Byleth's jaw, he couldn't help but feel something similar. His cock twitched as he followed the line of her neck. Her hand rested beside her face, her arm covering her breasts, but a hint of nipple was still visible. 

Unable to avert his gaze, he turned his whole body back around. Burying his head in his hands, he glared at the conspicuous tent in his smallclothes.  _ 'Traitor…' _ Wish as he might that it would go away if he just ignored it, thirty years of experience had proven that would never be the case. No, he had to deal with it. Captain Jeralt had always been understanding. Byleth, however… he didn't want to take his chances…

_ Alois covered his mouth with one hand as he freed straining member with the other. Living in such close quarters with other knights had taught him how to deal with such… unpleasantries quickly and quietly. Pulling back his foreskin, he focused most of his attention on his swollen head, eager to get this with as fast as he could. If Byleth woke up, she would either be disgusted, or enraged. Neither option boded well for him. He bit his lip to stifle a moan. Oh, but there was something about the way her eyes flashed when she was mad… It wasn't as threatening as the look Jeralt got when he was pissed, but was no less… invigorating.  _

_ "You are just  _ ** _incapable_ ** _ of being quiet, aren't you?" He froze, his blood running cold. No… no, she couldn't… "Walking, fishing, even pleasuring yourself; you can't keep your mouth shut for longer than five seconds." Still gripping his member, Alois dared to glance over his shoulder. Groggy and clearly frustrated, Byleth sat up, her heavy breasts swinging freely.  _

_ "Byleth, I-- I thought you were asleep…"  _

_ "I  _ ** _was_ ** _ . Your incessant moaning woke me up." Guilt washed over him, more from the fact that he had woken her than how he had done so.  _

_ "I'm sorry, truly I am. I didn't think I was so loud… I'll stop now, I promise. Go back to sleep." He'd just have to try and sleep with this throbbing mast between his legs… He nearly jumped into the fire as the young woman took a seat beside him, her smooth thigh brushing against his hairy one. "B-B-Byleth!! What are you--?!" She looked up at him, her large eyes earnest despite the slight frown pulling her lips down.  _

_ "If you don't cum, it won't go away, right? Jeralt was the same. The nights when he tried to ignore it were worse than the nights when he didn't." Yes, he remembered more than once pretending to sleep while the captain grunted and groaned beside him, though the idea of him doing so while his daughter shared his tent was… not as off-putting as Alois would have liked.  _

_ "Well… you aren't wrong, but… y-you shouldn't be… I mean, this is private--"  _

_ "It doesn't  _ ** _have_ ** _ to be." She pressed herself against him, her skin still just a bit chilled from the rain. Her breasts flattened against the muscle of his bicep. His cock bobbed as his heart thumped. "I know I can be cold, but I don't dislike you, Alois… just the opposite, in fact." He laughed nervously.  _

_ "I'm certainly flattered, but… I… I have a wife…"  _

_ "And? You aren't being disloyal." Before he could protest, the fire went out, throwing them back into near complete darkness. "This is a matter of life or death. We're cold and wet… Jeralt taught me the best way to stay warm is to share body heat. Surely he taught you that as well?"  _

_ Yes… on a mission in Faerghus during his squire days, he remembered the captain demanding they share a tent when a sudden snowstorm caught them unawares. He had been certain he would die of shame when he, independent of any stimulation, found himself cumming against the captain's thigh. Jeralt had said nothing, just wiped them off with an old shirt and went back to sleep. Alois wasn't sure if it was the heat they'd shared or his shame that kept him warm that night.  _

_ "I…"  _

_ "Do you want this or not?" He groaned as she ran her fingers through the thick pelt that dusted his chest. No one could accuse her of being meek.  _

_ "Yes. Yes, damn it, I've wanted this for years!" Saying it aloud felt almost as good as the way her nails scraped over his stomach as she made her way down between his legs. That first night in Remire village, even before he'd known who she was, he had been smitten. He was a boy again, but instead of the knight in glorious armor, he had found a goddess.  _

_ It was too much to admit, even to himself-  _ ** _especially_ ** _ to himself- so he convinced himself that his affection was purely platonic, fraternal. Jeralt had been like his father, so that made Byleth his sister (despite the fact that his thoughts when he'd watched them spar in the training grounds were as far removed from familial as possible). He whined as her fingers wrapped around his cock, almost too small to fit his girth.  _

_ "You don't have to hold back," She purred, stroking him at a pace far slower than one he'd have set for himself. "There aren't any fish for you to scare away. Be as loud as you'd like."  _

_ "I-I don't think you'd like that…"  _

_ "This time, I would." She ran her nail over the thick vein that spanned the underside of his dick, drawing forth a deep moan he wouldn't have been able to hold back if he'd tried. Moaning and panting and calling her name to his heart's content as she pleasured him was bliss. He could feel his precum spurting, making her hands slip over him. But… something was missing.  _

_ "B-Byleth," he managed to choke out. "You know, it's not fair that I'm the only one who's- AH!!- who's feeling this good. Why--why don't you let me- uhn!- pleasure you too?" She pulled her hands away, and for a moment, Alois was terrified he'd somehow offended her, but when his own silly fears began to wane, he became aware of the sound of shuffling beside him. Byleth took his hand, her fingers sticky, and guided it between her legs. A breathless sigh escaped him as he felt how wet she was just brushing her knuckles against her curls.  _

_ "You're drenched. You must have quite uncomfortable all this time."  _

_ "Yes, and the rain was unpleasant, too." He grinned as he ran a finger between her folds, her cunt so slick there was hardly any friction. Her clit was like a hard little pearl, just begging for his attention, but his fingers were drawn to her slit. He had only intended to circle her entrance, tease her, but she was so wet that his finger slid inside her with no resistance. Byleth moaned loudly, almost as loud as his own moans as she grabbed his cock once more and began stroking him with renewed vigor.  _

_ _ "You certainly are energetic. I wonder what's  _ ** _gotten into you_ ** _ ?" She groaned, but it was impossible to tell if it was because of his (admittedly brilliant) joke, or because he'd slipped another finger inside her. The way she clenched around him was mesmerizing. Oh, if only it were his cock inside her; if he could just thrust into her slick heat  _ ** _once_ ** _ , feel her squeeze him, milk him, desperate for his seed… "Oh… Oh, Byleth, I'm close…!" _ _

_ "Good," she panted, rocking her hips against his hand. "If you lasted any longer, I would worry that I was beginning to lose my  _ ** _touch_ ** _ ." Alois looked over in her direction.  _

_ "Byleth. That was horrible. I am both in love with, and embarrassed for you."  _

_ "You, of all people, do not get to feel second-hand embarrassment."  _

_ "So, just the love, then?"  _

_ "What--" He wasn't sure how he found her mouth in the darkness- another instance of the goddess making everything go right today. His lips covered hers, swallowing her questions and indignations as he curled his fingers against the sweet spot inside her, his thumb pressing hard against her clit. Byleth threw her head back, crying out his name as she shook, the sound of her arousal dripping from his fingers as she squirted indistinguishable from the rain dripping from the stone above them, the only difference the warmth on his hand… _

Alois barely caught himself mid-groan, biting down hard on the fleshy part of his palm to try and stay quiet. A torrent of cum flowed over his fingers as he came harder than he had in decades. Deciding to risk it, he glanced back at Byleth. She was still asleep, hadn't even shifted. He focused his gaze on the curve of her breasts, trying to imagine he was thrusting between them as his cock throbbed one final time. His hand shook as he released it, cramped from being locked so tightly in one position. He must have been at it for a while- the flame had almost completely died.

Fortunately, it seemed most of their clothes were almost dry. He frowned. Save his smallclothes, which were beginning to stick uncomfortably to his skin. Quietly as he could, he slipped them off, using the parts that weren't drenched in his spend to wipe himself off. If Byleth caught a glimpse of him, she couldn't complain, considering she didn't cover  _ her _ most tantalizing bits. Rising, Alois grabbed her coat before the flames could die completely. The seams were still damp, but it was dry enough for him to drape over her. 

She made a soft, conented noise, snuggling deeper into the dark folds. Would that he could lay beside her, brush the hair from her face, kiss her forehead and cheeks and (if he was brave enough) lips… like he had done with the captain, once. But his fantasies had not made him that bold  _ or _ stupid. He wasn't a silly boy who could feign ignorance when the object of his affections woke up suddenly, glaring at him. He was a man grown now, with a wife and a daughter of his own. Right… 

Alois groaned and made his way back to his side of the cave. His cloak was less dry, but he'd take what he could get. When the fire fizzled out, the only light that was left were the occasional flashes of lightning that split the sky. Every time Jeralt showed up, he was like that lightning, splitting his heart in twain. And now, even though he'd been gone for a good five years and counting, he'd left behind a part of himself in his daughter, enough of a part that she had the same effect on him. 

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A/N- Puns are not my prefered form of comedy. I admire those who can pull them off, but I am not one of those people. I promised a friend that I wouldn't make Alois be sad, but I only have two modes- sad and horny, and when one runs out, the other kicks in! It's 100% my headcanon that Alois is madly in love with Jeralt, and that love carries over to a Byleth of either gender because they're half Jeralt. Perks for either: M!Byleth can fuck him, so he can pretend that's the captain's cock so deep inside him// F!Byleth can be impregnated, so it's like he and the captain had a baby together! It's also my headcanon that, despite everyone remembering him with rose-tinted glasses, Jeralt was a raging alcoholic. I don't mean a quirky little bottle fairy like how the game tries to portray Manuela, I mean a short-tempered, mood-swinging, black-out drunk on par with Bojack Horseman.


	3. Specimen

_ "In Funken versunken steh ich in Flammen…" _

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"Specimen"

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Hanneman opened his door just enough for Byleth to slip out, slamming it shut perhaps a  _ bit _ too fast, if her startled yelp was anything to go by. What? Oh dear, her coat had gotten caught in the door. He opened it a crack so she could pull herself free, her steps fast and potentially angry as she walked away. At least she was civil enough to not bite his head off over an accident. Once, he'd done the same to Manuela, and she'd flown into a frenzy, calling him every name in the book and insisting he'd done it on purpose. As if he  _ enjoyed _ hearing her drunkenly shriek that he was a "miserable cock sucker" in the unholy hours of the morning. 

Did she not realize that sometimes, he just wanted to get someone out of his office quickly? Either because they were grating on his last nerve,  _ Manuela _ , or because he didn't want anyone else to see into his business. And what business it was! Normally, Alois would have barged into his quarters, unannounced and uninvited, begging to continue their fruitless magic lessons. However, the normally boisterous knight had been, well… if it were anyone else, Hanneman would say "subdued", but he was almost certain the icy grip of death itself couldn't subdue Alois. 

He'd probably just caught a cold or something, but regardless of the reason, his mornings had once again been freed, and his favorite subject-- colleague had been most amenable to dropping by for a few more rounds of testing. From the moment he'd met young Byleth, he'd felt his heart flutter in his chest. For one brief,  _ awful _ moment, he'd been afraid that Manuela's lustful desperation had finally rubbed off on him. _ Oh goddess, please, no!! _

Fortunately, those fears were put to rest in a matter of days, when he determined that the new professor  _ did _ in fact bear a Crest. And what a delightful mystery it, and she, had been. The air around her practically thrummed with magical energy, even more so since the power of her Crest had been fully awoken. From the moment she stepped into a room and he felt that aura, Hanneman found himself grinning from ear to ear, giddy as a schoolboy. Today was no different; all the more reason to get her out of here as quickly as possible. If Seteth had passed by and seen the white sheet thrown over his desk- or more specifically, the blood staining it- he would have called the Knights to chase him from the monastery. 

Someone that obstinate could  _ never _ understand the complexities of his research. They'd say he was "heartless" and "cruel", a "deviant" and "how many times do I have to tell you to stop asking the female students to remove their clothes, you old fool?!" As though he cared about the bodies that housed those Crests! No one said a peep about Manuela being alone with the male students, despite her making  _ several _ sexual advances towards them, yet he didn't want to wait for her to do a physical on a female student  _ twice _ , and  _ he _ was the predator?! Fortunately, Byleth had more sense about her than either Seteth  _ or _ Manuela. She understood how important his research was, and made every effort to aid him as best she could.

To think, he'd almost been opposed to her appointment as a professor. If they'd voiced any complaints, or if Seteth had gotten his way, they could have lost out on a perfect… well, everything, really! While her lesson plans were a bit disorganized, she conducted lectures well enough, and it was no secret that nearly every student adored her. Despite her… strange gaze and monotonous inflection, it was clear that she actually  _ listened _ when people spoke, even people as single minded as him. And, perhaps it was an odd thing to praise, but she was excellent at following orders. 

Maybe a relic of her mercenary upbringing, but ask Byleth to do most anything, and she did it immediately and without complaint. He'd truly realized that after her "awakening", as Rhea put it. He'd been so excited to see what physiological changes her body had undergone that he'd asked to do a physical then and there. He'd realized his mistake after the fact, immediately apologizing, but the younger woman had already taken off her coat and was working to pull off her blouse. He thankfully stopped her, recalling how… "out of it", for lack of a better term, she had been since her hair and eyes changed color. 

Desperate as he was for information, he could not accept a subject's consent if that subject was not in their right state of mind. But that had been five years ago. These days, the young professor was as sharp witted as ever, provided she wasn't returning from battle. So he felt no guilt in asking her to remove her clothes so he could do a  _ proper _ examination. Simply documenting what Manuela reported would never provide as much information as making his own observations. Unfortunately, he didn't have a proper examination table set up in the monastery, and asking a woman to lay down fully nude on his bed was pushing the boundaries of good taste, even for him, so he'd turned his desk into a temporary work station. It wasn't comfortable, but at least he'd provided her a pillow.

At the time, he'd worked as quickly as possible, not wanting either of them to be gone long enough to arouse suspicion- they'd have been done even quicker if he hadn't accidentally nicked her vein too deep while drawing blood. But now that he was alone, and his schedule for the day was clear (he'd specifically asked her to come today for that very reason), he was free to pour over his notes at his leisure. Folding the sheet and setting it aside, Hanneman stretched out languidly in his seat, flipping through his notes. He'd made several sketches to detail any marks or scars that seemed particularly noteworthy. He didn't have the artistic gift of young Mister Ignatz, but his skills were adequate. He didn't even need them yet; the examination was still clear in his mind…

_ "I really must thank you again for taking the time to help me so thoroughly, Byleth." He flipped to a new page for his notes as she climbed onto the table. After disrobing, he'd taken her basic measurements, height, weight, and the like. The younger professor winced as her knees met the hard oak, the sheet he'd thrown over it more to prevent any stains to the wood than provide comfort. Blood was one of those nasty things that left a permanent mark.  _

_ "How many times must I tell you 'it's nothing' before you will understand that  _ ** _it's nothing_ ** _ ?" Laying out on her back, she tried- and failed- to get comfortable. "In truth, it's easier to go along with what you want than it is to deny you, Hanneman. I don't have Seteth's iron will, it seems." _

_ "Crestology itself is thankful for that, my dear. If every major crest-bearer were as accommodating as you, I could have made breakthroughs decades ago! This whole war could--!" He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. "Let's not dwell on the 'would haves' and 'could have beens' right now. We have a fair bit of documenting to do!"  _

_ He continued his measurements, jotting down the length of every limb, and inquiring after the origins of every scar. For someone who remembered so few personal details, like an exact age or place of birth, Byleth's memory when it came to her body was immaculate. She could tell him, to the year, when she'd received each faint line, and what kind of blade made it. The entirety of her left knee was overgrown with scar tissue- a bandit had shattered it and because it never set properly, it had to be cut open and rearranged for years. Hanneman made a mental note to be gentle with that leg.  _

_ The only thing she couldn't explain was the faint scar that ran down her torso from collar to navel. She'd had it all her life, and assumed it was a birthmark of sorts. The older professor frowned as he stared at it, barely noticeable against her porcelain skin. Without thinking, he reached out, lightly tracing the mark with the tip on one finger, between her breasts and over her ribs… Byleth gasped slightly, her body jerking. It was only then that he realized how very inappropriate his actions had been.  _

_ "Oh! Do forgive me, professor. I found myself thinking about something from my days at the Empire's research institute, and got carried away."  _

_ "Oh. Because for a moment there, I thought you were considering the best way to cut me open." He swallowed hard, trying not to let his concern show on his face. No, he hadn't been thinking about doing so  _ ** _himself_ ** _ …  _

_ "Of course not! Such a thing would be unethical to do to a still-living person. Now, if you were dead…" He hated even thinking of such a thing, but the intrigue of what mysteries lay beneath her skin  _ ** _was_ ** _ a tempting thought. One he quickly put from his mind. "I need to check your heart, if you don't mind."  _

_ She shrugged as best she could. He normally had a device that made listening to one's heartbeat easier, but the hose had cracked, making the damned thing worthless. And this goddess forsaken war made procuring replacements for such instruments all but impossible. So for now, he had to do it the old fashioned way, laying his ear against her sternum. Byleth's generous breasts flattened somewhat when she was laying down, but it seemed there was still a considerable layer of tissue between her heart and his ear, because he couldn't hear anything. Not a single thump!  _

_ "How curious…" She moaned softly, the sound reverberating through her chest. From this angle, he could see her nipple tightening. He was still very close; the warmth of his breath must have been causing a pleasurable reaction. He straightened, and she opened her eyes, their normally bright green darker than usual.  _

_ "What? Is something wrong?"  _

_ "What? Is something wrong?"  _

_ "Hmm? Oh, no. A thought just occurred to me. It's often believed that Crest bearers are less… should I say, fertile than non-Crest bearers. It seems to be especially true among Kingdom houses, like Gautier and Galatea, and even the Royal family, but then I think back to my own house and remember that most of my relatives have several children, many with Crests."  _

_ "...and?"  _

_ "Well, it makes me wonder if the prevalence of the Crest plays a factor. For example, the Crest of Blaiddyd, while belonging exclusively to Faerghus' royal family, has been documented going back thousands of years. My family's Crest of Indech, meanwhile, can only be traced back a few centuries. Your Crest of Flames has only been documented twice in all the history I can find, belonging only to the Fell King himself… and you, of course." He found himself scanning the length of her body, taking in the width of her hips. There was a wonderfully attractive symmetry to her. Byleth pushed herself onto her elbows, frowning.  _

_ "Are you suggesting that you want to impregnate me to further your research?" _

_ "Oh, heavens, no! Waiting nine months for a result, and then being saddled with that result for decades to come? Such is the very definition of 'counterproductive'! No, no, what I suggest is far less… labor intensive. There are tests to determine a general level of fertility. I would need a few additional samples…" She sighed, laying back down.  _

_ "Oh. Well, that's fine." She bent her knees, spreading her thighs and exposing her center to him. "This… isn't going to hurt, is it?"  _

_ "Of course not! Have any of my collections hurt?" He gathered a few vials, settling between her legs. The curls there were the same color as her hair- fascinating! He wondered if the rest of her body hair had taken on a similar tint? He could hear her breathing hard, the cords of muscles in her thighs standing taut against her skin. "Just relax, Miss Byleth; I promise you won't feel a thing." As he spread her swollen nether lips, he was surprised to see her slick entrance contracting, arousal dripping onto the sheet below.  _

_ "I-I'm sorry…" Her voice was muffled, as if she had covered her face with her hands. Hanneman cleared his throat, feeling a stirring in his own loins.  _

_ "Nothing to worry about; it's quite natural." Arousal was one of those pesky things they had no control over; goodness knows how many young (and not so young) men at the Academy had to awkwardly carry their books after class. Though he didn't think women displayed their arousal so… intensely. The longer he looked, the wetter she became, the damp spot below her growing. _

_ Could it be an effect of her Crest, ensuring her body was prepared for coitus as quickly as possible to ensure insemination? And such copious amounts of fluid… She  _ ** _did_ ** _ say he could take samples. Uncorking one of the vials, he held it to her opening, her hips bucking slightly as the cool glass touched her.  _

_ "What are you doing?"  _

_ "Taking samples. I must ask, Byleth; do you always become so aroused so easily?"  _

_ "I--I--!"  _

_ "I ask purely from a research standpoint." She looked away, her cheeks darkly red.  _

_ "Not always…"  _

_ "Oh? Then occasionally?" She nodded. The vial had filled a quarter of the way full. Deciding that was enough, he replaced the cork, setting it aside gently, gently. "And would you happen to know what triggers such a reaction?" She nodded again.  _

_ "It… it mostly happens when I'm in the presence of certain… individuals."  _

_ "Such as…?"  _

_ "Linhardt, Ferdinand, Seteth… you…" His heart pounded against his chest, excitement flooding his veins. _

_ "The people you just mentioned all bear Crests of the Saints! Perhaps the Crest of Flames has some connection to them… No, hypothesizing can come later. For now, there is one more sample I'd like to take from you."  _

_ "You've already gone this far; do you even need to ask?"  _

_ "I do, in fact. This sample requires a bit of… coaxing. In a somewhat… unprofessional manner." She raised her head to better look at him.  _

_ "Well, it's a good thing we have a 'somewhat unprofessional' working relationship, then. What do you need me to do?"  _

_ "Relax.  _ ** _Fully_ ** _ . Don't hold anything back- shame has no place in the field of science."  _

_ "What if I'm loud?" He waved off her concerns, removing his gloves.  _

_ "Oh, I've been casting silencing spells on my office for years. It wouldn't do to have someone run in just because one of the students can't stand the sight of a little blood." Setting a readied vial beside him, Hanneman slowly inserted a finger inside her.  _

_ She clenched around him immediately, drawing him in even further. She was so slick there was hardly any resistance. It would probably feel incredible to breed-- er, have sex with her. Normal sex, nothing at all relating to research. As pleasant as her wet heat was, he didn't need to be in so deep. Pulling out a bit, he traced over the top of her canal, searching for a particular spot-- _

_ "OH!" Byleth's hips bucked wildly, and he smiled. Yes, there it was. One of his colleagues back at the Institute had been kind enough to teach him the particulars about the female form that their textbooks lacked. She had shown him, with all the patience she displayed with her own students, exactly how to coax reactions from women and what those various reactions would accomplish. It was honestly fascinating, just how complex the female body was. Almost as fascinating as Crests. Byleth had begun moaning in earnest, clutching at the sheet beneath her and rolling her hips against his hand as he added a second finger.  _

_ "Oh… oh, goddess… more. Hanneman, please, more!! My clit…!" He glanced up at the nub at the top of her folds, swollen and hard and begging to be touched. He could sympathize, feeling his cock straining uncomfortably against the fabric of his trousers. Clitoral stimulation  _ ** _could_ ** _ speed up the process, but…  _

_ "I'm afraid you'll have to endure it, professor. I don't want my sample being tainted. I'm doing this for research, not your pleasure."  _

_ "Why can't it be both??" Her voice held a definite whine that was almost cute.  _

_ "It can, if you'd let it. Just enjoy this." He added a third finger as the younger woman arched her back. He continued stroking that soft spot inside her, occasionally reaching down to rub himself through his pants, just enough to take the edge off. Soon, he realized that the slick running down his fingers was decidedly more opaque than before. "Byleth, are you close to orgasm?"  _

_ "Y-yes… so close… But… I usually cum… a lot…"  _

_ "Excellent!"  _

_ "But--!"  _

_ "What did I tell you?"  _

_ "'Shame has no place in the field of science'..."  _

_ "Exactly. So cum to your heart's content." He readied his vial as her contractions grew stronger, her moaning louder as he withdrew all but one finger, stroking her faster, faster until a thick, creamy fluid flowed from her entrance, dripping into the waiting glass. Byleths' moans half turned to sobs as he continued stroking her, pushing her past her limit to coax more from her, enough for all the experiments he had in mind… _

Hanneman's hips jerked as he thrust into his hand, shuddering as his orgasm ebbed with a final dribble of cum. He was grateful he'd locked the door; he'd been more… enthusiastic than he'd anticipated. And far more pent up than he'd realized, judging by the amount of semen staining his waistcoat. Thank goodness he'd set his notes aside. Clothes could be replaced- his research couldn't. 

Alas, if only reality could go as smoothly as his fantasy. A link between Byleth's Crest and any of the Saints' Crests would be revolutionary! If only it had a basis in fact… Although… It was said that dreams were the sleeping minds' way of understanding things the conscious mind could not. And what were fantasies but waking dreams? Yes, perhaps… Hanneman grabbed the folded sheet to wipe away the majority of his mess. 

He paused, staring at the stain where he'd hurriedly pressed it to Byleth's arm to stop her bleeding, the now dark brown iridescent with his seed. There were old legends about creating life with blood and seed, and while such things were clearly the superstitions of people who could not know any better, when it came to Crests, who knew what such combinations of material could produce? Not his, of course- he needed something stronger, something more… pure. Something major. Smiling widely, he walked to his quarters. If he was going to try and curry Seteth's nonexistent favor, he'd have to at least make himself presentable.

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A/N-  _ YOU CAN  _ ** _NOT_ ** _ TELL ME THAT HANNEMAN'S FANTASIES AREN'T JUST HIM JACKING OFF WHILE THINKING ABOUT CRESTS! _ I will not abide such baseless slander!! Yeah, so… so much for my porn. This fic is now "Silbur's 3H headcanon with a bit of smut thrown in to keep y'all sinners reading". Every time I talk to Crest Daddy in 3H, I'm always thinking "STOP TALKING ABOUT CRESTS!!" And while I was writing this chapter, I kept telling myself "STOP WRITING ABOUT CRESTS!!" But Hanneman's right- they  _ are _ fun to talk about! I had not intended for each chapter to flow into the next like the do, but damn if I'm not pleased that it's this seamless. I'd wanted Hanneman's chapter to be creepier (he's like, 50% otaku and 50% serial killer… so an anime otaku), but I think I'm going to save up all my creepiness for a later chapter… *doots the opening bars of  _ "Specimen Girl" _ *


	4. Solitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a couple spoilers about our favorite church man, and while I'm certain everyone who'd read this knows all about him, I still felt it prudent to warn those who don't and don't want the surprise ruined by a porno.

_ "Und bin im Wasser Verbrannt…" _

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"Solitude"

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_ Seteth's lips turned down the moment he saw Hanneman's hair from the corner of his eye. He had more than enough to deal with now  _ ** _without_ ** _ having to tell the Crest scholar the uneventful account of his life for the hundredth time.  _

_ "What do you want this time, Hanneman?"  _

_ "What makes you think I want something? Can a friend not just stop by for a chat--"  _

_ "We are not friends." The younger man frowned, his mustache hiding his lips but not the lines around them.  _

_ "Well, not with that attitude." Seteth sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, but catching himself at the last minute.  _

_ "There is no need to put on a false pretense of amicability. I already agreed to subject myself to your silly experiments, so tell me what you need this time." The professor's posture relaxed, grateful that he didn't need to try and stammer his way through forced smalltalk.  _

_ "I must say, I like you much better when you're cooperative, Seteth. Even so, I'd still prefer to soften you up a bit before you try and throw me out the nearest window." _

_ "Provided you leave Flayn be, as per our agreement, I can't imagine you crossing any lines you have not already streaked past." Hanneman produced a small vial from the inside of his coat.  _

_ "I'm afraid I'm going to need you to fill this up."  _

_ "With what? Blood? Hair? ...urine?"  _

_ "Semen." Seteth stopped, his hand still partially extended, as the other man's request fully sank into his mind. His eyes narrowed.  _

** _"What?"_ ** _ _

_ "I've recently come up with a hypothesis regarding Byleth's Crest of Flames, and I feel the major crest of a saint might have something to do with it--"  _

_ "Get out."  _

_ "--I'll be needing another sample of blood, obviously, but for now, I think-"  _

_ "GET OUT!" Seteth grabbed the nearest thing, his inkwell, hurling it at the other man. It was a good thing he hadn't been aiming directly at him, or it would have gone through Hanneman's chest with the force of trebuchet, instead of shattering against the door frame. The other man flinched all the same, his monocle falling out as he stared in shock. _

_ "Seteth, what has gotten into--?"  _

_ "Out! Get out, you deviant! Get out of my office, get out of my sight; get out of my life!  _ ** _GO_ ** _ !!" It had taken all his restraint not to physically kick him out, though he  _ ** _had_ ** _ slammed his door hard enough to shake several books from his shelves. Seteth leaned against the door, his nails digging into the wood as he fought to control his breathing.  _

_ No… no, no, no… People were asking too many questions again, connecting too many dots… Twenty years ago, he'd have just grabbed Flayn and run until people no longer recognized them, but he couldn't leave Rhea behind… or Byleth… _

That horrid exchange had been over a week ago, but just thinking about it still made Seteth's stomach grow tight with dread. He didn't want to believe the people he'd lived and worked with for over two decades would turn on him, but after Tomas and Jeritza, it was impossible to fully trust anyone anymore. At times like this, it was easy to understand his brothers' self-imposed isolation. 

_ They are not us, brother. Anyone who is not us is the enemy… _

It was easy to brush off Macuil's words as simply his disdain for humans, except for when Indech agreed with him. He could go to them, find a safe haven for Flayn at least, but… no. Rhea. Rhea had taken them in so readily, making no demands, welcoming him with a warm embrace… How could he repay her kindness with cowardice? No, he had to stay, to rally the Knights of Seiros. Even though the archbishop had named Byleth her successor should the worst happen, the young woman was, as of yet, simply a figurehead. The running of the monastery, and command of the knights, still fell to Seteth, as it had since his arrival at Garreg Mach… or rather, return to.

It could have been peaceful- it  _ should _ have been!- but once again, the humans had decided that they were no longer satisfied with things as they were. Such strange beings, obsessed with change. He forced himself to put that kind of thinking from his mind as fingers rapped on the stone leading to the advisory chamber; it would not do to accidentally refer to one of the monks as "you creatures". That could be construed in so many ways, and  _ none _ of them good. 

"Yes? Can I help you?" His heart jolted as Byleth stepped into view, her bright hair always the first thing his eyes were drawn to. Those soft mint locks filled him with too many emotions to untangle- hope, disappointment, resentment, fear, affection… It was easier to fake a smile than try to affect his old stolidness. "Ah, Byleth. Thank you for meeting me here." 

"Why aren't you in your office?" His smile felt more strained by the second. 

"I have more peace here. It's quieter, for one, without the moans of injured soldiers, and Hanneman's… presence." She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. Seteth wished she would cross them  _ over _ her bosom, rather than  _ under _ it. The archbishop's regent should appear chaste and innocent, not… He quickly silenced his impure thoughts.

"I'm thankful we had as few casualties in Ailell as we did. I'd take a hundred injured soldiers over fifty dead." That was kind of her, but their supplies did not share her sentiment. Of course, Seteth kept that thought to himself. That was precisely why Byleth actually  _ spoke _ to the soldiers, while he handled the impersonal aspects of the army. "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" 

"Hmm? Oh, no. Not the soldiers. I've noticed some strange behavior among your… closer allies." Her brows furrowed, just a hair but after observing her for so long and seeing nothing, nothing at all, such a small shift was monumental. 

"Closer?"

"Yes. Your old students, some of the Knights. Your personal acquaintances. I've noticed that some of them are acting odd. I noticed it first with Alois after the two of you returned from your scouting mission. I'm not certain he was the first, but the change  _ was _ the most noticeable in him." 

"And you think this is my fault?" 

"Well, the problem is that I don't know. I wouldn't accuse you of doing anything on purpose, of course. Perhaps you have simply contracted some illness on your marches and it's beginning to spread. If that is the case, it is better to act sooner rather than later. Does anything feel off to you?" Byleth uncrossed her arms, brushing the hair off her neck. He thought he could see a slight sheen on her skin, despite the fact that it hardly seemed possible to work up a sweat in such a cool room. It was doubtful she had run all the way here...

"Well, I have been feeling a bit warmer than usual as of late. In the past, I rarely ever got hot, even in the height of summer, but I thought I would keel over in Ailell. And I have been surprisingly restless. I think I've cleaned my quarters top to bottom three times this month. And I--" She flushed, averting her gaze. "No, that's all." Seteth's jaw tightened. 

"Is that so? Tell me; have you ever felt this way in the past?" Wiping her hairline, he found his gaze intensely focused on the way the strands moved against her fingers. So familiar, so painfully familiar… 

"Once or twice. It just went away on its own after a few weeks, so I paid it no mind. I think the last time was… five years ago, I suppose. Around the time of the ball- I remember feeling faint from the heat after dancing."

Yes, he remembered that time as well, when nearly every male student (and quite a few of the females) had flocked to her, begging,  _ demanding _ she dance with them. At the time, he'd just chalked it up to teenagers being infatuated with their young, attractive professor, grateful they were swarming her rather than Flayn. But after the awakening, after reading Jeralt's journal… He should have stepped in back then, and chased those horny demons off. He should have done a great many things differently… 

"Seteth?" He blinked, having forgotten for a moment where he was, or whose company he was in. Byleth fixed him with a quizzical look. "Is everything alright?" 

"Yes. Of course. It sounds like you may just have a bit of a fever. I suggest you rest as much as possible." 

"But… there is so much to do around the monastery." His smile returned, a natural one this time. 

"You can leave that to me. Just focus on feeling better." 

"I feel like I leave everything to you, Seteth." 

"That is my duty. I am here to aid you, and provide support in any way you require." 

"Then, who supports you?" He remained quiet, unable to think of an answer. He did not receive; he provided. Long, long ago, his wife had likened him to a keystone, the one that carried the weight of all those around him. She had been the closest thing he'd had to support for the few, happy years they had together. When he looked up, the space in front of him was empty. He'd assumed Byleth had grown weary of his cryptic silence and left, until a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders. He started, half expecting an attack, until he saw the soft green hair pressed against his cheek.

"Byleth? What are you--?" 

"My father used to hug me like this, back when we were mercenaries. It always seemed random back then, sometimes after battles, sometimes during storms, or after he'd gotten aggressive from drinking too much. I never understood back then, but now… I think he was trying to comfort me. Telling me everything would be alright." She pulled back just enough to look at him, uncertainty and something bordering on discomfort in her eyes. Those lovely eyes... "People hug for that, right? Or am I completely wrong?" 

She  _ was _ warm, her skin almost unbearably hot against his, the heat making her scent bloom, sweat and soap and a feminine musk that was at once foreign and yet  _ so _ familiar. For the first time in centuries, Seteth felt his age, his joints aching, his heart heavy, his soul weary… He could not muster up a smile, but he hoped she would recognize the sincerity of gratitude in his eyes. 

"You are correct. Thank you, Byleth. It means a great deal that you care about my wellbeing." He reached up, wishing he could stroke her cheek, but settling for squeezing the hand on his shoulder. "I mean that. Now really, you should go and rest. There will not be time for it soon" Reluctantly, or maybe that was just his wishful thinking, she released him, looking back at him one final time before rounding the corner. In the stillness of the audience chamber, he could hear each step she took even out into the hallway. Her scent clung to him, and he found himself breathing slow and deep, subconsciously trying to fill himself with it. His own body warmed in response. 

How many millenia had it been since he'd been so near a female in heat? Not since before the battle with Nemesis. He was certain that particular coincidence played no small part in Seiros finding so many new soldiers ready to throw themselves on the frontlines for her. Even with his wife willing and happy to help with his rut, it had been difficult. Their brothers had spent that entire month fighting either each other, or Seiros, the fire in her blood driving them into a frenzy. It wasn't until she snapped Indech's arm clean in two that they left her in peace.

He felt sorry for all these poor humans who must have been half in a frenzy themselves, only without having any idea why. He should have warned Byleth about this ages ago, but it felt like there was never any time, and it shouldn't have even been an issue! Physically, she was a human. She may have had Nabatean blood, Nabatean magic, but her body was that of a human. And yet,  _ oh _ , she smelled so  _ good _ , better than a human ever could. Even his wife, his heart and soul, did not fill his loins with fire the way Seiros did, the way Byleth did… 

Somehow, the temperature in the advisory chamber had risen twenty degrees, and his high buttoned, multi-layered attire had become wholly inappropriate. He wished he were back on the Rhodos coast, feeling the balmy sea spray against his bare skin. Sweat soaked into his collar as he remembered watching a bead run down Byleth's neck and collect in the dip of her clavicle. He was not willing to return to his chambers in this state- the last thing anyone needed was to think that he was ill. It would raise questions, and then he'd have to beat back Manuela and Hanneman both. Besides, it was peaceful here. With the archbishop still missing, there was no one foolish enough to request an audience with her, leaving the entire chamber completely empty on days like this one. 

He had a moment of solitude for once. But still plenty of documents that required his signature. Chewing on his lip, Seteth set his quill back in it's holder, reaching beneath his desk. His thighs fell open of their own accord, and he willed his pounding heart to still for a moment so he could listen for any approaching voices or footfalls. No, the only sounds were muffled enough to not be worth his concern. He quickly undid the fall of his trousers, pulling his fully hard cock out and sighing with relief. Already, he could breathe easier. He would do no more than that; he just needed to cool down a bit, and even if someone walked in unexpectedly, they couldn't see anything under the heavy oak desk. Turning his attention back to the stack of invoices, he tried to focus on the numbers written there, and not how soft Byleth's breasts had felt pressed against his shoulder, how comforting it had been to just be  _ close _ to someone, if only for a little while…

_ He leaned into her embrace, reaching up to stroke her hair. She smelled like lilies and daisies, sweet and pure and reminiscent of a better time, a simpler time, before all the pain and death and red…  _

_ "Seteth? What's wrong?"  _

_ "Everything." For the first time in thousands of years, he let himself be honest, no more secrets, not now. "Everything is wrong. Everyone is gone. Rhea is gone, I don't know if she's alright, I don't know what to do, it's just Flayn and I…" Byleth pulled away, holding his cheeks in her little hands that felt like branding irons against his skin, forcing him to look at her. As if he could have looked anywhere but those burning green eyes.  _

_ "And me." She told him staunchly. "I'm here, too. You told me once that I was as good as kin to you. Have I not proven that I feel the same way about you and Flayn? What more must I do before you trust me?"  _

_ "I trust you." He told her breathlessly. Her hands ran up his face, her thumbs tracing over his cheekbones as her fingers wound in his hair. For a moment, he was too intoxicated by the feeling of her nails running over his scalp to feel the air on his ears. His blood ran cold, and his fear must have shown on his face if her expression was anything to go by.  _

_ "You trust me. Not enough to even show me what you truly are, apparently." Seteth shook his head, wishing he could go back and intercept her hands. Her nails were still tracing circles against the back of his skull, and he felt his ears twitch in pleasure. Byleth noticed too, with the way her eyes flicked towards them.  _

_ "I… I just didn't want you to know…"  _

_ "Because you don't trust me." She affirmed, the disappointment in her eyes infuriating him. He pushed her hands away.  _

_ "Because I'm not like you! I'm different, and humans  _ ** _despise_ ** _ anything that is different. Even other humans, who are exactly the same as them but sound different or have a different color, they despise! I…!" His anger rushed out of him all at once, leaving him feeling weak and tired. "I could not bear the thought of you hating me over something so  _ ** _stupid_ ** _ …" Byleth lowered herself until she crouched beside his chair, resting her chin on the arm as she looked up at him. Even before joining her spirit with the Progenitor Gods', her eyes had been enchanting. Strange, a bit frightening, but very lovely nonetheless. _

_ "Do you think I'd still be here if I hated you? If I didn't hate you for constantly treating me like a criminal and nitpicking my every action, would I truly hate you because your ears aren't like mine?" He stared at her, his mind taking far too long to catch up to her words. He had been so horrible to her in those early days. He could have kept an eye on her without being so cold. All that distrust while ignoring the true wolf amongst their flock…  _

_ "I've known people with six fingers on each hand, and webbed toes. At least  _ ** _your_ ** _ strangeness is cute." Something fluttered in his belly, and she smiled, a sweet, innocent, charmed smile that made his dick rock hard. "Especially when they twitch like that." Confusion dimmed her smile. "Why do they do that?" Seteth swallowed past the lump in his throat. How long had it been since anyone had looked at him like that, seeing him as he truly was,  _ ** _accepting_ ** _ him for it?  _

_ "Do you truly want me to tell you? Do you want me to trust you enough to tell you everything?" Her eyes lit up, hungry for the truth.  _

_ "Yes. I have for five years; you know that." He did. And for five years, he had been thinking of how he could have laid bare such alien concepts. He did not wonder now- he did not have the wit needed to beat around the bush, all the blood draining from his mind to pool into his cock.  _

_ "It is a sign of arousal." Her eyes widened, mouth falling open into a little "o", giving him a glimpse into the warm, wet cavern. His ears twitched harder, and a faint pink flush rose in her cheeks. "I have been painfully aroused almost from the moment you arrived. Do you know why that is?" She tore her eyes away from his ears to meet his gaze, somehow less flustered by that.  _

_ "Because you find me attractive?" Seteth could not help but smile at her boldness.  _

_ "That is true. You are a very beautiful woman, and your daily attire leaves little to the imagination. I cannot imagine how many other men you have the same effect on. Alas, that is  _ ** _a_ ** _ reason, but not  _ ** _the_ ** _ reason." The younger woman frowned, growing annoyed by his lack of a straight answer.  _

_ "Then why?"  _

_ "Because you are in heat, Byleth." There was no visible confusion this time as her frown deepened.  _

_ " _ ** _Heat_ ** _ ? You mean, like an animal? That makes no sense; why doesn't this happen every time I get my moon's blood?"  _

_ _ "Because it is entirely separate from that." Emboldened by the heat surging through his own veins, he reached out, ghosting his fingers over her sternum. "What you are  _ ** _here_ ** _ ," his hand trailed down, between the valley of her breasts, to rest over her belly. "And what you are  _ ** _here_ ** _ are two very different creatures, forced to coexist within a single vessel. Your human body has a human's womb, and that is what causes your moon's blood. But your heart, your blood, is that of a longer lived being. You'll only experience a heat cycle every five or so years." Realization dawned upon her face. _ _

_ "During the ball… I was so overheated, it made me ill." Seteth frowned.  _

_ " _ ** _That's_ ** _ what you remember? Because I remember the legion of sweaty teenage boys desperately trying to mount you under the guise of dancing." She met his annoyance with a cool look.  _

_ "I taught Sylvain Gautier; that was an everyday occurrence."  _

_ "I suggest you not be so blasé about this, Byleth. I have witnessed firsthand men driven to extreme violence by the desire to breed." Her cheeks darkened once more, but there was a coyness in her eyes.  _

_ "Is that what you call it? 'Breeding'? I wouldn't expect to hear the word 'fucking' ever leave those pious lips, but I honestly thought you'd call it something sweet, like 'making love'." The older man shook his head gravely.  _

_ "We speak of two different things. Having sex, making love, even…" He lowered his voice. "...fucking… They have no place in a heat cycle. The only thing a male wants is to mount a female, and fill her with his young." He looked deep into her eyes. She wanted the truth, she said. "And until your cycle is over, that is what I want from you as well." He expected disgust; even from one human to another, such a confession would have been unsettling. But Byleth remained where she was, still staring up at him, something behind her eyes he could not decipher.  _

_ "Is that all you married your wife for? To have a… breeding partner?" He bristled at her accusation, aware that she did not know any better, but still indignant that she would even  _ ** _ask_ ** _ such a thing.  _

_ "Of course not! I loved my wife, with everything I had. She--" He shut his eyes tight, reminding himself that he owed it to the professor to be truthful. "She was human. There was no… instinctive urge with her."  _

_ "So, you never--?"  _

_ _ _ "I did.  _ ** _We_ ** _ did. Where do you think Flayn came from?" His gaze softened as the young woman confusion overtook her face. "I fear I have worded things too strongly. If I implied that breeding and love were two separate phenomena, that was not my intention. What I mean is… the tenderness, the warmth that one might look for in intimacy is absent during breeding. It is rough, and painful, and I do not want to hurt you, ever, in any way. I am confident in my self control, but… life is not always in one's control." Byleth remained silent for a long moment, digesting his words. When she spoke, it was not what he had been expecting. _ _ _

_ "Did you tell your wife all of this?"  _

_ "Of course. It isn't something you do without warning."  _

_ "And what did she say?" Seteth's eyes slid shut. Even now, after hundreds of years, he could still picture her face perfectly, as if she stood before him, then and there. Her great brown eyes had held fear, but there was also excitement, anticipation, and love. So much love that he thought his heart would burst just from looking at her.  _

_ " 'I want this. I want all of you.' " He could still feel her hand on his cheek, small but so warm and strong… A tear slipped past his lashes, and she brushed it away with her thumb… except she didn't, because he didn't cry in his memories. Eyes snapping open, he saw Byleth standing over him, watching him in silence as she tenderly dried his tears.  _

_ "I want this. I want all of you." He shook his head.  _

_ "You don't know what you're saying. This is not something to be taken lightly. You do  _ ** _not_ ** _ want your first… experience with me to be hard and painful."  _

_ "It already was." She told him, her voice and eyes steely. "Did you think you were soft, and tender, and loving all those years ago? No; you were hard, and cold, and even though I couldn't feel it at the time, you hurt me. Your distrust hurt me. But I stayed. And I waited, until you became kind and warm…" She reached for his hand, nuzzling her cheek into the curve of his palm. "And it was worth it." In spite of his best efforts to hold back, Seteth felt the hot sting of tears welling in his eyes anew.  _

_ "I am sorry you've waited for so long. But I am also grateful that you did. I... care for you very much." She smiled at him.  _

_ "I care for you, too." His fingers wound in her hair, pulling her down so he could reach her lips. She leaned against him, deepening their kiss. He eagerly explored her mouth as she parted her lips, moaning against her. The taste of her saliva was heavenly, but he wanted more; he needed all of her, every taste, every sound, every smell branded into his mind. His hips began rocking in his seat as he continued kissing her, his grip on the back of her neck tightening.  _

_ "Ah!" Byleth pulled back, at least as far as he would allow. "You cut me! How are your nails so sharp?" If they were going to do this, he had to tell her,  _ ** _show_ ** _ her, everything. Sighing, and trying to calm the frantic tattoo of his heart, Seteth released her, holding his hands up for her to see. It was almost comical, the way her jaw went slack. "...your nails…"  _

_ "Yes." Unlike the thin, easily broken nails most humans had, his had thickened, grown longer, more resembling a beasts' talons. "My 'strangeness' is no longer so 'cute' now, is it?" She rubbed the back of her neck, wincing.  _

_ _ _ _ "It  _ ** _could_ ** _ be, if you hadn't sliced me open. I'm bleeding." _ _ _ _

_ "Yes, and I am sorry for that. But I'm afraid that if you choose to continue, more blood will be drawn." She lowered her hand, her palm smeared red.  _

_ "I'm not afraid of blood  _ ** _or_ ** _ pain- it's the unexpected aspect of it I don't like. What else about you can hurt me?" 'Everything…'  _

_ "...everything. What I am, Byleth… humans were not created to endure us."  _

_ " 'What you are'... so, you're like Rhea, then?" Like… So. She had seen the Immaculate One, had seen what Rhea was, and not fled... She already knew more than he anticipated. _

_ "In a manner of speaking. We bear… similarities. ...we are kin." For the first time, something akin to fear flickered behind her eyes.  _

_ "Are you… going to turn into…?"  _

_ "No." He assured her quickly, a small part of him hating how absolute his answer was. "Even if I wanted to, I cannot. I am not turning  _ ** _into_ ** _ anything." A wry grin twisted his lips. "This is what I am, what all my kind were. Something that looks human from a distance, but is not, and can never be." Byleth considered his words for a moment, then pressed her hand to his, their fingers splayed out. Her hands were as a childs' compared to his. How could something so small be so strong, so brave? Perhaps Sothis saw some of herself in her appointed vessel.  _

_ "Whatever you are is what I am, at least in some small part. I don't care if you're not human; I like you as you are." Such simple words, but they reverberated deep within his soul. He twined their fingers together, squeezing her hand as best he could without his claws digging into her skin. Standing, he guided her to his desk, brushing aside the papers there with his free hand. At any other time, he'd have been screaming at the sight of the mess he was making, but here and now, all he could see was Byleth, beautiful and radiant and perfect as she sat in the space he'd cleared, looking at him expectantly. The trust in her eyes filled him with pride and guilt in equal measures.  _

_ "Are we going to…?" She trailed off, unsure of the terminology. He brushed his knuckles against her neck.  _

_ "Mate. But not yet. I must prepare you. It will still hurt, but I will do everything in my power to lessen that pain."  _

_ "I'm not a maiden on her wedding day," she told him, almost offended. "I've lain with men before." There was a tiny part of him, just a small, barely there part, that wanted to track down every one who had been inside her before him and rip their throats out. _

_ "That has no bearing on this. It does not matter if you have been with a hundred men, or if you are a virgin maid; it will hurt." She inhaled deeply, steeling herself but showing no trepidation.  _

_ "At least this time, the pain will be worth it." Her brazen nonchalance was as charming as it was concerning, but an ever growing part of Seteth's mind cared nothing for her ignorance. That part of him only wanted his mate, and he wanted her now. His free hand came up to twist in her hair, tilting her head back to expose the long column of her throat. Even trapped in this weak shell, he could dig his teeth into a human's throat and rip it out with ease, but his movements were restrained, lengthening teeth nipping and scraping rather than biting in earnest.  _

_ Byleth sighed and rewarded him with breathy moans, her other hand running up his chest where she deftly began undoing the tiny buttons near his throat. She had far fewer barriers, her decollage covered by a collar he easily tore off, the audience chamber echoing as it's heavy gold pendant bounced off the stone floor. He should have been more careful- the last thing they needed was for some nosy monk to come running- but Seteth was beyond the point of caring. He could feel a familiar pressure growing at the base of his cock, spurring him to hurry and thrust inside her.  _

_ He freed both his hands, making quick work of her pants as she reached the last button of his cotehardie, pushing it open. The air should have been cool against his chest, but he could feel nothing but the flames of desire licking at his skin as she ran her fingers through the dark green curls there, nails lightly tracing over his nipples. Growling low in his throat, the older man ripped her pants, tights, and smallclothes down to her ankles in one rough tug. Pushing herself further onto the desk, Byleth spread her thighs in anticipation.  _

_ He wondered how much of that was her heat urging her to mate, and how much was her desire for him? His wife had always been demure, needing him to coax her with soft words and gentle kisses before she would let him gaze upon her in such a way. He'd never thought he could accept a brazen, shameless woman, but watching the young professor's cunt contract as her slick dripped onto the dark wood made him realize that a bit of brashness could be a good thing.  _

_ "Seteth…" She moaned, tugging at her blouse, the pink of her nipples just barely showing through the thin cloth. "I need you… inside."  _

_ "I know." Lowering himself to his knees, his tongue flicked out to sample the bounty laid before him. Byleth gasped, her hips jerking, and he had to grip her thighs to hold her in place.  _

_ If they weren't so desperate, he'd have loved to watch how the spots where his fingers pressed into her flesh reddened. But they were, the musk of her arousal inundating his very pores, the laces of his trousers fit to snap as his cock strained against them. He needed to work fast. Circling her clit a few times, just enough for her back to arch as she keened in pleasure, Seteth slipped his tongue into her waiting slit, moaning against her as she began working the appendage.  _

_ "Oh… oh, goddess… Seteth you--" She gasped again, less from pleasure and more surprise. She grabbed a handful of his hair, trying to pull him back, but he couldn't stop now. "Seteth? What is that? What are you doing?"  _

_ "Preparing you." It would have been hard enough to speak with his lips pressed against her slick folds, but with his tongue as it was now, even he could barely understand his garbled words. _

_ If she were to lay with a human, or even him at any other time, her body's natural response would be more than enough, but she required extra attention for this. Just as his nails grew and sharpened, to hold his mate in place, to fight off any competing males, so too did his body undergo other… changes. Being sure to mind his teeth, he worked her over with as much dedication as he could have given anything. The tip of his tongue pressed against the opening of her womb, and she shuddered, pulling his hair tight enough to hurt.  _

_ "Seteth… it f-feels weird…" He could not stop to explain what he was doing, instead rubbing her thighs in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. Her slick ran down his beard and neck as she began moaning again, trying to grind against his mouth. He cared less about her approaching orgasm and more about her inner walls no longer gripping him so tightly even though he could still feel the muscles contracting.  _

_ He continued lapping at that tight ring of muscle until it too relaxed. Byleth cried out as he pressed his way inside, but he pulled away before she could process what she was feeling. He could only fit the tip of his tongue in, but that was all that was really needed. They weren't  _ ** _actually_ ** _ breeding… unfortunately. She could not risk carrying a child in the midst of war. The way she stared at him, he must have looked terribly frightening, but before he could cover the horror of his mouth, she grabbed his wrist. A teasing smirk played at her lips.  _

_ "If I'd known you were blessed with a tongue like  _ ** _that_ ** _ , I'd have sought you out much sooner." The advisor curled his tongue back behind his teeth with a bit of difficulty. His speech was still muffled, but more intelligible than before. Centuries ago, he'd have been able to communicate in her mind.  _

_ "I would not do such a thing normally." Her smile dimmed slightly.  _

_ "What  _ ** _did_ ** _ you do? I feel strange. Everything is… a bit numb." Apprehension soured his stomach as he stood, but before he could do more than vaguely imagine her disgust, his hands went to the fall of his trousers, undoing the laces. Just those slight brushes were enough to milk thick drops of precum from his cock as he pulled it free.  _

_ "You have to be numb. This would be agony, otherwise." Byleth stared openly, her jaw slack. It wasn't monstrous, he convinced himself, but compared to what she was most likely used to, it had to be a shock at least. She would be disgusted that he would even  _ ** _consider_ ** _ putting such a thing inside her, she'd pull up her pants and storm out and, while he couldn't imagine her endangering Flayn by telling everyone what he was, she would probably never speak to him again.  _

_ She was full of surprises, however, and rather than recoil in fear or repulsion, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his member. Seteth moaned louder than he would have liked. It had been so many centuries since he'd felt anyone's touch but his own. Byleth gave him an experimental stroke, and this time, she did recoil as the ridges that lined his cock flexed against her palm. She met his eyes, uncertainty in her own.  _

_ "Is it going to do that inside of me?"  _

_ "Yes." He told her bluntly. "You will still feel it, but… it will be more tolerable now." He closed his eyes, needing to hold onto at least a  _ ** _shred_ ** _ of his composure, and that was impossible when he was staring at her glistening entrance. "If you do not want this, Byleth, tell me. I do not want you to feel this is something you  _ ** _must_ ** _ do out of an obligation to me or our kind. If there is someone else you would prefer--"  _

_ "--then I'd probably be sitting on  _ ** _their_ ** _ desk." When he looked at her, there was no uncertainty in her eyes, no teasing grin, not even the remnants of surprise. Five years ago, he would never have been able to imagine her smiling, smiling at him, smiling with such warmth and love, making her glow from the inside. "I wouldn't be here, like this, if I didn't want this from you, Seteth." Her cheeks flushed prettily. "In truth… I've wanted this for quite some time now. There's something about you that pulls me in… and I don't want to break free of that anymore."  _

_ It might very well be the magic of her blood making her think like that; she could sing a very different tune in a moons' turn, but for now, he would take her words as gospel. He grabbed her hips, sliding her off the desk and turning her around. She glanced back over her shoulder, lips parted ever so slightly.  _

_ "Really? I was hoping I could look at you while you… bred me." He groaned, his cock jerking hard.  _

_ "I want that, too. I want to look deep into your eyes and make love to you, Byleth. But not this time. It will… be less unpleasant this way." That teasing grin came back.  _

_ "Maybe next time, then." She must have had experience in this position, for she bent over the desk without any prompting, spreading her legs as far as she could with her pants around her ankles. Seteth pushed her head down, her hips rising accordingly. He was dripping with need just as intensely as she was, but he could not stop himself caressing the firm globes before him.  _

_ Byleth wiggled in response, her swollen nether lips drawing his attention. Breathing hard, he lined himself up with her entrance, reminding himself to be gentle as he slid inside her. There was no resistance at first; his cock was tapered, allowing him to enter her several inches before her breathing hitched.  _

_ "Should I stop?" He asked quickly. He could only see her hair fluffing around her neck as she shook her head.  _

_ "No… this is the part I want." She pushed herself back against him, her cunt stretching around the swell of his member. His ridges flexed and they both shuddered, but having heard no sounds of discomfort, he allowed himself a bit less restraint.  _

_ Even though it had been ages, he found his rhythm almost immediately, his hips rocking as he worked himself inside her little by little. Byleth's moans grew louder with every centimeter, and by the time he had sheathed himself, she was crying out, her legs shaking as slick squirted around his cock, running down his shaft and her thighs. Breathing hard, she glanced back at him, her eyes glazed in pleasure.  _

_ "Seteth, I…"  _

_ "It's fine. But you may want to pace yourself. We haven't even begun yet." The look on her face as he pulled out and quickly thrust back in was beautiful. He truly wanted to look at her, to be able to see every expression that flickered across her face as he made love to her all through the day and well into the night. Unfortunately, when he'd tried their normal position with his wife, they quickly learned that there was a reason his kind coupled from behind, the curve of his cock pressing uncomfortably against her bladder with every thrust. There was less chance of an accident this way, and he didn't want anything to interrupt those breathy gasps Byleth was treating him to.  _

_ It almost felt like normal sex a human might have at first, but Seteth could feel his gums itching as his teeth grew longer. His thrusts grew more shallow but quicker as he grabbed her hips. The young woman hissed sharply as his claws pierced her flesh, blood welling around them and running down her legs. She did not protest this time, panting and whimpering as her breasts rubbed against the oaken desk, her blouse riding up a bit more each time.  _

_ "S-Seteth--"  _

_ "Cichol." He corrected her.  _

_ "What?"  _

_ "Call me by my name." She fell silent. Had he been too demanding? Did she think this was some strange joke? Surely she had put two and two together by now-- _

_ "Cichol… touch me. Please." He groaned loudly, a pulse of pleasure radiating through him. He didn't want to let go of her. He didn't want to think of anything except how close he was to his peak, but she had asked so sweetly, his name on her lips a rapturous experience. He forced himself to reach around her hips, pinching her clit, his fingers smeared with her blood. Byleth threw her head back, the pleasure on her face indistinguishable from agony as she cried out his name. "Ah… Cichol… Cichol…!"  _

_ The base of his cock had swollen almost fully. He could not hold back any more. Draping himself along her back, Cichol pushed her hair aside, baring her neck. He bit down hard on the soft junction between her neck and shoulder, earning a short, but genuine scream as he marked her. He would treat her wound personally later, but would ensure that it left a scar, a permanent reminder to everyone that she was his, that she would bear  _ ** _his_ ** _ young, his alone. The sweet, warm tang of her blood on his tongue was too much to bear. Grunting through still-clenched teeth, he thrust harder, the bones of his hips digging sharply into her ass as he forced his knot into her, ensuring his seed had the best chance to take root as he spilled himself inside her… _

_ _

Seteth tried to stop it, but he may as well have tried to stop the tides. The mortification of hearing his cum hit the underside of the desk was only outweighed by the mortification of knowing he was stuck like this until he was done. He was such a fool, letting his mind wander, letting himself get so worked up he actually knotted! Like a silly adolescent! He could easily try to blame Byleth's heat, but in his heart he could not lie to himself. Rhea's heats had  _ never _ aroused him to such a degree, even though she clearly had that effect on their brothers. 

No, the last time it happened had been millenia ago as he lay with his wife, stroking her back and assuring her it would be over soon. She had wept during, his fully engorged ridges serving as hooks to keep them locked together and tearing into her every time she shifted, but afterwards, when he kissed away her tears and held her close, she had smiled and told him she hoped they would have a sweet little girl. It felt almost like he was betraying her memory, allowing himself to react in such a way to a fantasy, but he had wanted it to be real  _ so badly _ . It caused a physical pang inside him to open his eyes and remember that Byleth had left and he was spilling his seed on the floor rather than into her. 

His beloved had known that, even with his blood, he would outlive her. She would not hate him for opening his heart to another and dreaming of having another child… but  he certainly wasn't pleased with it. He could not afford to be distracted by things like this,  especially when they were so time consuming and… messy. He had to spread his legs further to keep the ever-growing puddle of cum from reaching his boots. As soon as this horrid ordeal was over, he had to find a bucket and sponge. Goddess forbid if one of the priests- or  _ Cyril! _ _-_ saw this mess. Or  _Hanneman_... He'd  _ really _ have to throw the man out of a window, then.

Unfortunately, his growing frustration did nothing to quell the arousal still inflaming his flesh, so Seteth relegated himself to laying his head on the desk, trying to pretend he had dozed off, and that he couldn't hear any lewd splattering.

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A/N- If Gilbert being miserable is 10 of my kinks, then Seteth having a big 'ol dragon dick and being a one-man bukkake is the other 90. If you've read my Fire Emblem Fates fics, then you know I have a… shall we say "fondness" for partial, unflinchingly monstrous manakete transformations. If you can't deal with Seteth at his David Cronenberg, then you don't deserve him at his Chinatsu Kurahana. Again, I wasn't planning for these chapters to flow into each other- they were going to be unrelated one-shots, and Seteth's was just going to be a heat cycle/breeding kink, but things changed and now, it's cannon that Byleth's magic dragon heart gives everyone a chub. The next chapter is… hoo boy. It can be left off… by you, the reader. Not by me, the writer. If you just want some innocent wank material, then the story can end here for you (though there's a plot bunny in my head that's  _ kind of _ thinking about a sequel where Byleth makes these boys' dreams come true)...


	5. Savage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- OKAY, I'MMA STOP YOU RIGHT THERE! I had to change the warning on the fic for this chapter, and even though I tagged it, I'm warning you one last time. This chapter is a horror show. If you get triggered by things like graphic violence and necrophilia (If you're wondering why it's not tagged as rape/non-con, it's because necrophilia isn't classified as rape, at least where I live), TURN BACK NOW. The rest of this fic is nice and doesn't have that stuff. Now, to all my fellow sick fucks, we now return you to your regularly scheduled program, already in progress.

_ "Im Wasser Verbrannt…" _

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"Savage"

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_ Five years prior… _

Jeritza watched with a disinterest that bordered on disdain as the Frauldarius boy tried to hop back when his professor kicked at his shins. He avoided her boot, but was so focused on her legs that he didn't notice her sword until it met the side of his head. In a true battle, his helmet would have caved in with enough force to shatter his skull, or else, the finely honed steel would have cleaved through bone and brain and he'd be lying on the grass, dead. Alas, the training grounds of the Officer's Academy were far removed from any real battle, with the padded helmets and wooden swords, so he remained bored. 

"You fight dirty." The boy spat as he climbed to his feet. The older woman twirled her sword, looking almost as disinterested as Jeritza. 

"That's why I'm alive. I was brought here to teach you, so let me teach you. You can live with a bruised shin. You  _ can't _ live without a head." 

"I know that," Frauldarius sneered, raising his sword into a roof guard. "I'll bet that trick won't work on me again." 

"Of course it won't. That's why I wouldn't use it twice. I'd throw sand in your eyes, or knee you in the groin." The boy winced, and the expression of pain didn't go unnoticed. "You can live without a penis, Felix. Provided you kill your opponent fast enough to stop the bleeding. Your assignment for tonight it to list every body part that isn't necessary for your continued existence." 

He looked ready to argue, but the professor had already turned away from him, replacing her waster with the others.  _ Felix _ scoffed, muttering under his breath, but he too set his sword aside and dragged his feet from the training hall. The heavy doors groaned as they slowly swung shut. Only after the echo of the clatter died away completely did Jeritza speak. 

"He is right, you know." 

"And?" 

"It takes a great deal for nobles to unlearn years of chivalry." 

"They can learn, or they can die." While there were aspects of her that he found just as irritating as with everyone else, one thing he would not complain about was her blunt, terse way of speaking. If such a thing were possible, he might say he enjoyed it. 

"Do you think you could win without your baseborn tricks?"

"I wouldn't lose." 

"But would you win?" Cracking her knuckles (a horrible habit that he despised), the professor turned to face him. 

Byleth. Her name was Byleth Eisner. He was expected to remember that; she was his colleague, after all. He did not care for such things. Her students called her "Professor" (aside from the Riegan boy), and he did as well. She did not complain. Maybe she didn't realize a fellow faculty member was speaking to her; more than once, she approached him as she often approached the students, only seeming to realize who he was when he told her to leave. 

"It depends." A non-answer. 

"On what?" 

"Who I'm fighting. Why. With what weapons." That was closer to an answer, but still not one. 

"You are fighting me. With swords." 

"Why?" 

"Because I want to." She considered him for a while, her eyes both unseeing and seeing everything all at once. He reached up under the guise of adjusting his mask, in reality making sure it hadn't slipped. 

"It still depends. There are too many variables." 

"Then let us test our skills and find out for certain." He pushed himself from the wall he leaned against, heading to the sword rack. 

"No live steel." She told him just as he raised his hand. He frowned at her. 

"Are you afraid?" 

"I'm afraid that if I kill you, Seteth will spin it to look like I'm a murderer." It sounded like a joke, but her eyes and the slight downward tilt of her lips told him she was deathly serious. He almost smiled. 

"Yes, such a reputation would be most bothersome to deal with. Very well, the edgeless blades then." Already he was less excited, but a sword did not need an edge to take a life. They could be used as bludgeons, and even something as dull as a spoon could be stabbed through flesh with enough force behind it. 

Contenting himself with that thought, Jeritza grabbed two swords, handing one to Byleth. She tested it's balance, that ever so slight frown growing more pronounced. The weapons in the training yard were all of poor quality, shoddily forged mistakes bought in bulk for cheap, but until she agreed to give him a proper duel, they would have to do. Stepping five paces away from her, he turned sharply on his heel, bowing the way he had been taught to. Byleth mimicked him, her bow stiff and awkward. He wondered how it felt to live a life where you weren't expected to even  _ pretend _ to defer to other people?

Such thoughts had no place in his mind, and he discarded it, charging at her with a low guard. She did not go high as a novice might, feigning towards his right before attempting to strike his left thigh. Unfortunately for her, she held back on the momentum of her swing, alerting him to her feint, and he parried her blow. Their sparring match continued that way for quite some time. Most of her moves were basic thrusts and ripostes that he could counter easily, but their speed was worrying. 

She had amazing reflexes, drawing her sword back before it could slide against his, moving immediately into another guard. She was short, however, and he could reach her while staying mostly out of her range. It felt like hours passed, but at the same time, it was as though time had stood still. He wasn't holding back, yet he still had to work to keep his advantage. He wasn't holding back, and was still somehow engaged in a bout intense enough to keep his attention. It was amazing. Here and there, his attention shifted from the silvery flash of steel to the one holding that steel. 

With every swing, sweat flew from Byleth's brow like little crystals. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright, the muscles in her arms taut against her skin. Yes… yes, he liked this very much. Finally, when he blocked a blow and the resulting shockwaves caused them both to lose their grips, they declared a stalemate. She stood there panting, her breasts rising and falling heavily with each breath. It was the first time he noticed them. 

"You expend too much energy trying to find an opening." He told her plainly, trying to speak as though he wasn't breathless himself. Unlike some of the students, she didn't deny his assertion. She simply nodded. 

"Yes. But you should draw back your own counters. Your sides are often left unguarded." She wasn't wrong. More than once, her blade came dangerously close to his waist before he could step back. 

"We will both need to improve before our next duel." 

"I suppose." Inhaling deeply, Byleth straightened. "I have classes in half an hour. I need to bathe." That was her way of saying farewell, apparently. She walked away without even waiting for a response. That made sense; what could he have said to something like that? 

Jeritza watched the doors close once more, leaving him to his solitude. Classes  _ were  _ starting soon. It would be several hours before any students came to bother him, but if the knights' quarters were overcrowded, some might come to this yard. But they were not here now. Now, he was alone with blades and his thoughts. His heart still raced from his impromptu workout, but coupled with his memories of their sparing, it created an... interesting reaction.

He  _ tried _ isolating the way she twisted to avoid one of his thrusts, but rather than thinking about the way her body moved so that he might replicate it, Jeritza found himself thinking about her  _ body _ . Her legs were short, but her thighs were quite muscular, and those "pants" she wore barely covered more than smallclothes. His pounding heart was beginning to direct blood to his loins, and he could feel himself stiffen. Such an occurrence often happened after a particularly invigorating battle, and he found pleasuring himself after the fact an enjoyable way of celebrating victory. Ah, but he had not been victorious this time. But he  _ could have _ been. The issue was that their blades were dull. It would be easy to win with live steel…

_ Jeritza charged at her with a low guard. She did not go high as a novice might, feigning towards his right before attempting to strike his left thigh. He parried but she had been expecting that as well. There had been little weight behind that deceptively heavy-looking blow, and her blade slid against his in a shower of sparks as she moved right for true. He pulled back, but not before the sword kissed his leg. It was a glancing blow at best, but their blades were sharp. The black fabric had been split, along with the flesh beneath it. They both paused, staring as blood welled up in a bright red line before soaking into his pant leg. Byleth leaned back, lowering her sword.  _

_ "First blood. I win." Tearing his eyes away from the stinging cut, Jeritza frowned at her.  _

_ "No. We continue."  _

_ "I landed my blow."  _

_ "And I do not care. This is a duel," He brought his sword down, just fast enough to spur her into raising her own to block him. "To the death." Her eyes widened an almost imperceptible reflex of fear. He had probably been the first to ever see such an expression cross her face.  _

_ "No. I refuse." She turned her blade, unlocking them and retreating. But he had the smell of blood now, faint but such a familiar coppery tang, and his hunger would have to be sated.  _

_ "You do not have a choice in the matter. You will kill, or you will die." He needed to show her that he was serious.  _

_ He brought his sword down, his swing deceptively wide. A less skilled fighter would have used the opportunity to strike at his heart, but Byleth did not live a mercenary's life by falling into obvious traps. No, she blocked him and moved to sidestep. Just as he had hoped she would. _

_ Jeritza extended his thrust and was rewarded with a sharp hiss of pain. Her sleeve had been cut, the flesh beneath sliced clean and bleeding profusely. Not enough to cripple her… but more than enough to prove that he was willing to. Her lips pulled back from her teeth, an animalistic expression of rage. Oh, yes… Appreciate her monotonous nature though he did, the life that filled a victim as he crossed blades with them was the greatest source of enjoyment for him. Watching the emotions play out across their faces until the light left their eyes was bliss, and he had a feeling the professor's defeat would be the most heavenly experience yet.  _

_ She lunged, the slashes she had used when she thought this was pretend replaced with thrusts, using her sword to make up for her lack of reach. He found more enjoyment in trying to predict where her blows might land than he usually got from cutting down a foe. The way her breasts bounced every time she back stepped from his own blows was certainly an added bonus. Would his steel cut through them as easily as it did a peasant's gut? Curiosity spurred his slashes to become more frenzied. He wanted them to land, to see the kiss of his blade leave scarlet blooms across her skin. He had drawn blood once; he could do so again easily.  _

_ "Jeritza, stop this!" She yelled as he gained ground. He could barely hear her over the pounding of his heart in his ears.  _

_ "I will stop when Death's scythe has claimed one of us. And I intend for it to be you!" His sword slid against hers, the crossguard all that kept her fingers intact. She turned her blade to dislodge him, but he pushed forward before she could pull back. A cry of pure agony ignited his desire as his sword hit her chest. On the battlefield, had they been in full armor, it would not have been a glancing blow, but her bare skin was soft and weak.  _

_ It cut deep into the pillowy mound, deep enough for him to see a hint of yellow fat through the deluge of red. His cock throbbed painfully, and she used his momentary distraction to bring her sword down. Pain surged through him like a Thoron spell as her blade sank deep into his hip. Too deep. It cut clean through skin and muscle, embedding in the bone where it stuck fast. It hurt unbearably as Byleth tried to tug it free, but ohhh, was the pain worth it to see the growing panic in her eyes.  _

_ She abandoned her hope of reclaiming her weapon, grabbing his blade with her bare hands as he tried to drive it between her ribs. So many of these noble children would have just allowed themselves to die, but not her. Even as the steel cut through her veins and tendons, she held on, keeping it away from anything vital. There was a crack as she drove her heel into his shin, the pain causing him to stumble long enough for her to turn. There were her lowborn tricks, but Jeritza was so enthralled that he didn't even think less of her. _

_ No, the only thing she'd done worthy of scorn was not kicking hard enough to snap the bone all the way through. He wrenched her sword from his hip, the clatter enough to give her pause. A mistake she would pay dearly for. Painful as it was, he could still walk with a fracture, and walk he did, stalking his prey as she scrambled to get away. Her eyes were wide with terror as he bore down upon her, so wide that he could see himself reflected in their depths, a spectre of death.  _

_ She tried to block his blade again, but her hands would no longer cooperate, and his sword sank into her gut. Watching her face freeze as she shuddered was all he could take. He thrust the sword in further, earning a high, strained keen as the point pierced her back. She fell against him, her breaths shallow and labored.  _

_ "Yesssss…" he moaned, reaching between their bodies to free his aching cock. "This battle is not yet over. I want to see you fight for every breath, for every beat of your heart…" He gripped her chin, forcing her head up. Saliva trickled from the corner of her mouth as her breathing began to slow. Jeritza dipped his head, running his tongue along the wet trail. She groaned and tried to push him away, smearing blood across the fine silk of his robes. He would  _ ** _never_ ** _ wash those stains out, a beautiful badge of pride.  _

_ "Yes," he panted against her mouth. "Fight me, fight me with every last ounce of strength in your body. They never fight back, only you, only you…" He thrust against her thigh, the skin there warm and slick, though he could not tell if it was blood or if she had voided her bladder as death tightened its grip. He didn't care either way; nothing mattering in his mind but the heat and the way her eyes grew dimmer with every passing second.  _

_ "No...no, not yet! Stay with me!" He reached down, grabbing the swords' hilt and twisting it sharply. Her expression contorted in exquisite agony once again, a flash in her eyes that died away as quickly as it appeared. It was over far too soon. She had lasted longer than most of the Knights he had slaughtered, but her eyes still went dull, her jaw still slackened, she still struggled for one final gasp before falling silent. He had hoped she would last long enough for him to reach his release, but death waited for no man.  _

_ Growling in frustration, Jeritza pulled his sword free from her gut, the wet sucking noise it made as it slid through her going straight to his cock. He tossed the now useless blade to the ground, using both arms to hold his opponent upright. She felt heavier in death, her skin still warm in his hands. The red slit in her belly shone, reminding him of the way some of the more brash female students would lift their skirts for him, trying to entice him with their slick cunts. He had no interest in such things, especially when offered by weak, worthless little strumpets. But the professor, Byleth… she set his blood aflame in a way they could only wish.  _

_ Gently, for she had earned that much respect, he lowered the woman down onto the sand, straddling her hips. If her eyes had fallen shut, it would have been easy to pretend she was sleeping, but they remained partially open, just enough for it to appear as though she were gazing at him through her lashes. Perhaps she was; people often said that a person's soul lingered around their body for a time after death. The thought only excited him further. Yes, let her watch him claim his prize.  _

_ Pulling out the dagger that hung at her waist, Jeritza cut open her clothes, taking a moment to drink her in. He had seen nude women in his youth; Lord Hrym had paid whores to rub their breasts and cunts over him, striking him when his pubescent body reacted of its own accord. He was not to concern himself with pleasures of the flesh and other distractions- the blade would his only care in the world. He trailed the dirk over her mounds, pressing it against her unmarred breast, cutting into the flesh to mirror the gash he'd made on the other. _

_ Dropping the dagger, he reached up, hesitating for barely a second before covering her breasts with his hand, squeezing and tugging experimentally. He rather enjoyed the feel of them, the way the flesh gave beneath his fingers, and more so for the way her blood felt against his skin. Moaning softly, he let his hips move as the pleased, the underside of his cock grazing against the dark teal curls between her legs. He adjusted his position so he could slide between her nether lips with each thrust, but… it wasn't as pleasurable as he had hoped. His eyes were drawn once again to the cut left by his killing blow.  _

_ His cock jerked, precum beading at the tip. Moving once again, he now knelt above her stomach. His heart had never beat so fast as when he grabbed his member, positioning himself at the slit he had created. Sliding the tip in was enough to draw a groan from him. She was still warm… Emboldened by this newfound pleasure, Jeritza slammed his hips forward, sheathing himself within he completely. He nearly came then and there, feeling his cock slip between her soft, slick bowels.  _

_ He closed his eyes, westling control back to his conscious mind. This had to last longer, at least as long as their duel. He would not be bested by a slain foe. Finally certain that he would not climax immediately, the arms instructor opened his eyes once more, and set a slow but steady pace. Each thrust squeezed more blood out around his cock, and he could not tear his eyes from it, watching as it gathered and spilled, running down Byleth's waist to bead in the sand below.  _

_ Not certain what to do with his hands, he returned them to her breasts. She wasn't as warm on the outside as the inside. Her nipples were soft against his palms, but he had seen them straining against the fabric of her blouses before. He would have liked to feel them when they were hard. Vaguely, he wondered what it would be like if she were still alive as he fucked her. She'd probably scream and cry and kick and bite and scratch him, fighting tooth and nail to get him off. Yes, she would put up a good fight, trying to dig her nails into his eyes, shrieking at the top of her lungs until he pressed his arm against her throat, harder and harder until he heard a pop.  _

_ Jeritza could feel his orgasm drawing closer once again, but he did not fight it this time, instead giving himself over to the pleasure. He draped himself over her, resting his weight on his elbows and abandoning the pace he'd set in favor of rutting with ruthless abandon. He could feel the severed muscles splitting further, his weight on her belly pushing a few inches of intestine out through the gap. Holding her cheeks, he forced her lolling head to remain still, to look at him as he covered her mouth with his own. _

_ She would have bitten his tongue off in life, but in death, he was free to taste and feel her to his heart's content. He took  _ ** _her_ ** _ tongue between his teeth, sinking them as deep into the thick muscle as he could, grinding them to saw through it, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. Moaning loudly, he sucked on the partially severed appendage, drinking her very essence as the base of his cock tightened… _

_ _

The shakey groan he uttered as he came sounded more desperate than anything that had ever left his lips before. Leaning against the pillar, his legs trembled as he spilled rope after rope of his seed onto the sand, and  _ not _ into the new professor's belly as he had longed to. Releasing his still twitching cock, Jeritza fought to catch his breath. Their duel hadn't exhausted him nearly as much. 

As his senses returned to him, the young man realized just how careless he had been. He stood facing the door, his cock hanging out and his mask half slipped from his face, made slick by the sweat running down his temples. If anyone, knight or student, had seen him, he'd have a wholly unnecessary body to dispose of. No, he could not take such a risk within the monastery… for none but  _ her _ . He would gladly take the professor's body back to his quarters and… deal with it. But first, he would need to slay her. And she was teaching a class now, surrounded by witnesses. 

Tucking his now flaccid member back into his trousers, Jeritza wiped his hands on his robes and slipped his mask back into place. He had quelled the need between his legs, but he still hungered for fresh prey. If anyone wanted to train, they would have to do so without him. He stalked to his quarters, where his armor was hidden away. The Death Knight would need to whet his blade on less worthy blood tonight.

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A/N: *ahem* " _ After all, you're mine and mine alone~ Now and forever mine, you must have known~ Until this body rots down to the bone~ You're my one and only specimen girl~♡" _

Every other Jetitza/Byleth fic I've read has been cute and fluffy and romantic, and I love that, really I do, but uh… how 'bout I play up what a psychopath he clearly is instead? I'm sure IntSys is planning to Peri him up in the next update, but that changes nothing; I will never sympathize with the "Literally An Avowed Serial Killer And Never Faces Consequences For It" characters. It's been a long time since I've written any guro that revels in it's violence. I forgot how much I like it~♡


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